


The Song of the Bandit and the Gypsy

by daienkaixoxentei



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Action, Angst, M/M, Multi, Romance, aokise - Freeform, gangster au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5769538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daienkaixoxentei/pseuds/daienkaixoxentei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain cerulean-haired teenager falls to his death on the night of his birthday, and the friends who attended the party are left behind to pick up the pieces. Shaken but unfazed, they all seem to be able to agree on only one thing: Kuroko would not have killed himself. The main suspects? Each other. The motto? Trust no one. The aim? Find the killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preamble: Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I'm just going to say off the bat that my updates WILL be slow. I hope you will bear with me, though, as I've invested quite a bit into this. Hopefully, this is going to be the first multi-chaptered fic that I actually manage to finish. 
> 
> Right, so, I've always wanted to write something like this, and I got inspired by Galileo Galilei (if you don't know who they are, go check them out, their songs are amazing!), thus why this fic is named after one of their songs. Despite the mellow melody after which this fic is named after, this fic will be dark, and I advise you against reading it if major character death is a turn-off for you (actually, no, please give my fic a try I am desperate). Constructive criticism is welcome, but please do not leave flames! Do review! Do know that my updating speed is directly proportional to the number of reviews. 
> 
> obligatory disclaimer: Love to Galileo Galilei. Fujimaki-sensei owns all the characters.

* * *

 

 **ガリレオガリレイ** **/18**

 **[** _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_ **]**

* * *

 

 

The lights were too bright. It hurt his head, but he couldn’t very well close his eyes. Perhaps this one time, the harshness of the lights were a far better discomfort than what he saw when he shut his eyes in seek of a reprieve from the luminosity.

“Please, Kise-san,” the policewoman coaxed, and though she tried to be as gentle as she could, her grating voice did nothing to soothe his immense headache, “try to remember what you can.”

Of a little after midnight on January 31st, 2014, Kise Ryouta remembered very little.

There were two things he knew for certain that occurred that night.

“Um, well…” He began half-heartedly again, knowing that no matter how much he racked his brains, he wouldn’t be able to scrimmage anything to say that would be of any _use_ to the policewoman, “I don’t remember much, really, you know… We were all drunk, which was irresponsible, I know, but all the same, we never thought…”

His voice tapered off shakily, and he had to take a sharp intake of breath. No, none of them thought such a thing could happen; and especially to that one subject in particular.

Two things occurred that night, for cert.

The first…

“It’s quite alright, Kise-san,” the policewoman reassured impatiently. “Now, if you could just tell me; where were you during the time of Kuroko Tetsuya’s death?”

… Kuroko Tetsuya’s death.

Kise wished the policewoman hadn’t spoken the last bit of that sentence. The reality of it hadn’t really hit him yet, but it was slowly sinking in. He supposed that the tears would come when the shock wore off, but presently he felt only one crashing, inevitable emotion.

Disbelief.

But Kuroko Tetsuya was dead, and there was nothing he could do to reverse this fact.

“Um, during the time that you say Kurokocchi died…”

And despite himself, despite the fact that his innards seemed to be made of lead, Kise blushed.

 _“I can’t believe it took two hours of coaxing for you to finally realize, dolt.”_ A deep, reverberating voice, hovering right over his ear, sending chills down his body. _“I_ want _you, so badly.”_ He shut his eyes and tried to steady his heart’s palpitations; he remembered very little of it, but the recollection of whatever that his memory had managed to instill almost made him gasp.

_“And I know you want me, too, Kise.”_

He chewed on his lip to inhibit the shiver that rose up his spine, and instead studied how his hands kept shaking in the cradle of his lap. The policewoman observed this reaction curiously, and it was with suspicion in her voice that she spoke next.

“Kise-san, you understand that you need to tell me everything, right?”

“I do, I do,” he explained hastily, his blush deepening, “it’s just,” he met the policewoman’s eyes and tried to convey the message silently, “it’s a bit private…”

No such luck.

The policewoman sighed in exasperation and rubbed one of her temples with her fingertips. “Kise-san, I am a reasonable woman. But this is concerning the death of a person – of one of your best friends, I might add – so this act of beating around the bush is wearing my patience very thin. No matter how dirty or lecherous you may _think_ what you’re hiding from me is, I’m ready to assure you that we will not disclose the facts of your private life to the public.”

She raised both eyebrows significantly, and Kise’s already flushed cheeks deepened in color. Despite himself, he was slightly irked. _So, he already told her? Who would’ve thought he was the type to kiss and tell, you know?_

“What I simply need you to tell me,” she said gently, as if talking to a young child, “is what you were doing during the time of Kuroko Tetsuya’s death. Could you do that for me, Kise-san?”

The brushing of his fingertips on his burning skin; the intimacy of their torsos rubbing against one another; his lips on his back; the amazingly _full_ feeling, topped by a splash of somewhat pleasurable pain… he remembered very little of it, but he knew for certain that it happened.

“I was in Kuroko’s unoccupied room… with a friend of mine,” he began hesitantly, “we were drunk, very much so…”

The second being…

“And I ended up having sex with him. Aomine Daiki.”

Well, that.

The policewoman nodded finally, satisfied with his answer. “See, now that wasn’t very hard, was it? Aomine-san has confirmed that as well.” Despite this, she gave him a displeased look, one which he reciprocated. The lights were still hurting his head, he had a hangover, and one his best friends was _dead_ , damn it, she could cut him some slack.

She nodded to him, scribbling something on the sheaf of papers upon the metal desk. “You may leave, Kise-san.”

He bolted from the chair, not bothering with formalities. As soon as he was out into the hallway, immensely dim and more _real_ in comparison to the surrealistic lights of the interrogation room, the finality of the event finally hit him. His footsteps staggered, and Kise found himself leaning back against the wall next to the door, feeling very weak at the knees. He felt as if he had the wind knocked out of him, and as he shut his eyes, the gruesome image returned to him again; cerulean hair matted with blood, eyes wide and unseeing, limbs at a horrifying angle, splattered on the sidewalk…

There was no coming back from that.

There was no _erasing_ that from his head.

Kise inhaled shakily and lifted his eyes to the ceiling as his knees gave away and he slid to the floor of the police station. He thought, and thought, and thought, trying to push the repellent picture out of his mind.

But Kuroko was dead.

And it was all their fault.

He pondered this for a second longer, and then the next breath he took betrayed him, catching in his throat. Finally, while his head throbbed and his heart ached, silent, agonized tears rolled down his pale cheeks.

 

* * *

 

Outside the police station, chaos had reigned.

“BUT I’M TELLING YOU, I _KNOW_! KUROKO WOULDN’T HAVE KILLED HIMSELF, DAMN IT!”

Eyes still red but looking nonetheless as impeccable as ever, Kise Ryouta hadn’t expected to be greeted with such a loud exclamation no sooner than he had stepped out onto the parking lot. Everyone who’d had come to the party had gathered there after their respective investigations, in a tense circle. The loud volume of the exclaimer hurt his head, but the pain behind the words were, perhaps, worse.

The captain of Seirin’s basketball team, Hyuuga-kun, placed a reassuring hand on Kagami’s shoulder, but the auburn-haired teenager was not sated. His cheeks streaked with tears, eyes raging and mouth twisted into a scowl, hair more mussed up than usual… Kise didn’t think he had ever seen Seirin’s ace player look so miserable.

It didn’t take long for him to analyze the situation.

Akashi, never Kagami’s biggest fan, gave him a cold, seething look. “So, what you’re suggesting is that one of us did it? One of us killed Tetsuya?”

The use of the name _Tetsuya_ earned Akashi a sharp look from most of the group. Indeed, his multicolored eyes were looking unusually cold. Kise repressed a shudder; he really detested this side of Akashi.

At the words _killed Tetsuya,_ Kagami’s eyes widened and his fists clenched tighter. “I don’t freaking know, okay? All I know is…” his voice seemed on the verge of breaking, “All I know is that he’s freaking _dead_ , and none of us were able to stop it!”

“And you standing here screaming at us rectifies this fact, how?” Akashi’s expression was cool and calculating as he crossed his arms over his chest, the disapproval extruding from his demeanor deepening with every word.

Kagami made to retort angrily, but Hyuuga gave his arm a firm tug, so he just ended up glaring at Akashi in furious disbelief. Momoi, looking extraordinarily shaken herself, placed a quivering hand on Akashi’s arm gently. “Akashi-kun…” she cautioned carefully, “he’s not thinking straight… just let him”—

“And when, pray tell, is that idiot ever thinking straight?” Midorima interjected, his scowl deeper than usual as he adjusted his glasses. His hand remained on his forehead even afterwards, however – a feeble attempt to hide the emotion that betrayed his usually impassive face.

“Shin-chan…” Takao admonished gently. He looked extremely forlorn without his usual smile. Kagami looked more livid still, but the group fell silent, finally turning their attention to their last arrival.

The one who addressed him first was the last person Kise wanted to see, really.

“How’d it go, Kise?”

_“How do you like this, Kise? Heh, you want more, don’t you?”_

Kuroko, dead on the sidewalk. Kuroko, who probably could have been saved if either of them had paid attention to him instead of relieving their sexual frustrations on each other.

Face burning with shame and throat thick with self-contempt, he lifted his eyes to meet Aomine’s blue orbs briefly. He found questioning and hesitance within them, and he knew his own chocolate orbs held doubt and hesitance as well. Nonetheless, he knew what Aomine was asking, and he knew how to respond to it, as well.

The others didn’t have to know about their sin, anyway.

“Well enough,” he murmured, breaking eye contact, and he was amazed by how hoarse his voice sounded.

He was silly to have hoped… of course, after what had happened, they would have never been able to be together normally again. Kise _knew_ this with certainty. And yet, silliness had won out, and he had ended up hoping for some essence of normality, anyway.

 _Normality’s out of the question,_ Kise thought bitterly, studying the stressed assemblage of teens, _these guys are already at each other’s throats._

And for good reason, too.

Because Kagami was right about one thing, at least.

Kuroko Tetsuya most certainly did not commit suicide. They _all_ knew that.

He scanned the large crowd; the Seirin team, his old middle school friends and their usual respective partners. If Kuroko had not committed suicide, then somebody here was guilty of murder.

But who?

And more importantly, _why_?

Murasakibara was the first one to catch the distrust in Kise’s eyes, and he scowled while taking a bite of his Maiubo candy.

“Nn… Kise-chin agrees with Bakabrows here, I think…”

All eyes turned to him, and Kise flushed but remained steadfast in his gaze. He considered everyone carefully before cautiously wording his reply.

“Not entirely… but… you guys _do_ know that Kuroko wouldn’t have just… taken a leap, right?”

He expected reprimands, at least from Akashi’s side if not anyone else. The redhead did consider him coolly for a second, but so did everyone else. And then, a second later, almost simultaneously their eyes were on each other, scanning the group as Kise had done earlier, each asking himself the same, silent question.

_Which one of you did it?_

“This is stupid,” Aomine scoffed, breaking away from the group and sauntering off, “I’m not going to do this with you idiots.”

“Aren’t you quick to crack under the pressure, Aomine-kun?” Himuro, unexpectedly, spoke up quietly. A chill – pardon the cliché – seemed to traverse over the company. Aomine stopped in his tracks and looked back, expression contorted in shocked fury.

“Are you accusing _me_ of murdering Tetsu?”

Everyone turned their surprised eyes to Himuro, and he stared back unfalteringly. “I don’t know, but I can see that Taiga and Kise-kun are correct. Kuroko-kun wouldn’t have jumped off himself, especially on his birthday, where he had been having as much fun as the rest of us.”

This was a fact. Kise had known – they had _all_ known, even before this discussion that Kuroko had not, and would definitely not have, committed suicide. But _kill_ Kuroko? _Murder_ Kuroko? None of them could comprehend why any of the others would do such an atrocious thing. Or perhaps it hadn’t been one of them, perhaps it had been an outsider… but still, why?

_Why would anyone kill Kurokocchi?_

Either way, it was apparent to everyone that the main suspects here were one another. Each studied the other uncomfortably, tensed under the stressed blanket of silence that had fallen over them. Kagami was the only one who made a sound, his entire 6’3 form shaking with mediocrely hidden sobs.

Breaking the silence, it was Furihata, shaking and nervous and distraught as he was, who asked the inevitable question.

“But then…” He took a deep, shuddering breath, faltering under the imposing glare of his companions, “where do we go from here?”

It was a good query, but suddenly, nobody felt like looking at the other very much, anymore. Kise stared at his own Converses, toeing the rough asphalt as he thought the question over.

Where _did_ they go from there?

A new form of anguish filled him slowly, and it deepened as the silence stretched on. The shocking and sudden pain was unable to diminish the misery he felt for Kuroko’s death, but managed to overshadow it a bit none the same.

He didn’t trust _anybody_ there. Even Aomine, and he had been with Kise the entire time the incident had been speculated to occur.

“I guess that settles it, then.”

Akashi was the one who finally spoke, and as cool and collected as he was, even _his_ voice betrayed a variety of heartbroken emotion. There was an essence of finality in his sentence, and everyone present – Kise included – knew the implication behind his words.

Once they leave the parking lot, they would never be able to all come together again.

Aomine was the first one to go. He buried his hands deep in his pockets, lips pressed in a thin line, and turned on his heel to walk away. Just before he did so, however, he met Kise’s eyes and the blonde was startled by the bout of emotion present in them, but the exchange was far too brief for him to be able to analyze their message.

“’Right, goodbye, then.”

Momoi, his oldest and most beloved friend, made a sudden, jerky movement, as if to make to go after him, but in the end, she retained her composure. Instead, she turned her rosy eyes downward, looking equal parts ashamed and confused. Kise himself was finding it difficult not to sprint after him, cling onto the fabric of his jacket, and beg him not to go, but even _he_ found it suspicious that Aomine was so crass about the entire event.

And anyway, aside from the fact that they had a trashy, drunk and common one night stand, he had as much of a bond with Aomine as the rest present. Since nobody else seemed too bothered, he figured he shouldn’t go after him either.

_“Mm… trust me on this, Kise… I’ll make you feel damn good…”_

Despite his reservations, he pursed his lips, eyes prickling familiarly again. And yet, he did not move. One by one, everyone said their inelegant goodbyes and left the parking lot, but Kise stood in his spot for a long, long time, staring in shock at where Aomine’s retreating back had been, even long after he had disappeared from his vision.

/

Perhaps by chance, Kise bumped into Kagami the very next day. He looked no less distraught than the day before, and the dark circles around his eyes indicated that he, too, hadn’t slept very well that night. In his hand, he held a suitcase, and he seemed to be in a hurry.

“Kagamicchi.” Kise noted, cautious but surprised.

Kagami’s eyes flickered to him blankly. “Kise.” He greeted in an unenthusiastic, hoarse voice.

He played around with the idea of asking “How are you?” but then mercifully thought better of it. Instead he flickered his eyes to the suitcase pointedly before impeding Kagami’s path.

“Are you leaving?”

Kagami considered his options, and then finally lifted his eyes to Kise’s. Again, the cold agony within the usually fiery orbs shocked him. “Yeah,” he muttered, carefully monotone, “to America.”

“America…” Kise repeated slowly. “Forever?”

He regretted asking the question, as Kagami’s eyes immediately filled up with distraught tears again. But thankfully, he regained his composure and instead pushed back his hair with one hand, turning his gaze downward.

“I don’t know, Kise… everything here, the streets, the restaurants… it’s all Kuroko. I don’t think I can handle this.”

Kise understood this very well. Rather than commenting on it, however, he softly uttered a question that was more a statement or a declaration than an inquiry.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

Kagami did not answer. Nor did he need to. Instead, he took a sharp intake of breath and gave Kise a tortured glance that expressed more than anything he could have done with words.

Kise felt bad, but did not apologize. He stood there silently as Kagami murmured a lame excuse that he did not hear, and pushed past him briskly.

After watching him turn the corner, Kise pulled out his phone from his pocket and pressed the redial button, not even bothering to look at the screen, where his call logs indicated that he had called a certain number almost fifty times within the past six hours. He stood there on the sidewalk for almost fifteen minutes, pressing redial again and again, hoping that the person on the other end of the line picked up.

“Damn it, Aominecchi, you can’t just do this to me…” He finally whispered to himself miserably.

Another fifteen minutes passed. When Kise finally slipped his phone into his pocket and turned on his heel to walk back home, he was overwhelmed by one crashing, inevitable feeling – one that he hadn’t felt in a long, _long_ time.

Loneliness.

 

* * *

 

The funeral was a small, modest affair, held just on the outskirts of suburban Tokyo. Kuroko’s family had wanted to keep it to themselves, and perhaps it was just so. None of his friends would have turned up, anyway.

Even the weather seemed to be mourning the passing of such a pure soul. Gray clouds loomed over the entire prefecture, but the air was still; dead, one might say. Not even a piece of grass rustled. The trees were silent, seemingly bowing their heads in respect.

Kuroko Tetsuya Sr. knelt down by his grandson’s grave and placed a lone, white rose atop it before murmuring a few words of blessing. Then, he straightened up and headed over to where his child and her husband, accompanied by his distraught wife, stood a few ways away, each of their expressions colored in varying degrees of misery and pain. He closed his arms around his only daughter, and together they began to cry.

Far away, in a darkened café somewhere in Kyoto, Akashi Seijuro placed his empty cup of coffee atop the modernly attractive table. His heterochromatic eyes lit through the din, cold and unforgiving to anyone that may cross their path. Next to him, an effeminate young boy with pouty lips and long eyelashes swept back his long hair from his face before sparing his captain a knowing glance.

“You know who did it, don’t you, Sei-chan?”

“Of course.” Akashi replied without hesitation and feeling. “And I’m going to do everything in my power to make him pay for it.”


	2. Imaginary Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I should probably be conditioning you guys to my slow updates, but FranBunny and Bel were fantastic enough to comment on the last chapter (the hastening of the arrival of this chapter is all thanks to them and their wonderfulness, incidentally) so I just had to update. Lots of love to everyone who gave kudos, and even those who read and liked the content even though no review was given. Of course, I would like you MORE if you DID comment, but that's neither here nor there... 
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention, this fanfic is dedicated to ninassield (I LOST MY NUMBER PLEASE SEND ME A MESSAGE ON TUMBLR ASAP BTW), in memory of all the Aokise fanfiction I SAID I WOULD write, but somehow never found inspiration to. Lots of love to you, ninacchi ♥ I promise I won't hurt Kise... hopefully. 
> 
> Anyway, here it goes. Usual disclaimer; love to Galileo Galilei, characters to Fujimaki.

_IMAGINARY FRIENDS_

Kise Ryouta stood very still, too numb from shock to be able to register fear. The barrel of the gun felt hard and cold and very, very _real_ against his back through the thin fabric of his shirt. His mind went blank, and it took all of his power not to act on his instinct and run for his life.

The recognition that mortality was both precious yet _very_ fragile was a startling combination of shock and fear that somehow managed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. For what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was perhaps a few seconds, Kise stayed silent, hoping his assailant would speak up.

Then, slowly, he raised his hands in surrender.

“I-I don’t know who you think you’re apprehending, attacker-san, but I assure you that you’ve got the wrong man…”

“Shh, now.” The voice was playful and vaguely familiar, but the name of its owner danced precariously on the edge of Kise’s memory, enticingly close and yet managing to be completely out of reach. “If you move, I’ll have to kill you, and that’s not going to be very fun for either of us, is it?”

Kise froze, again.

“Haha, good boy. Now, you need to listen to me, and do exactly as I say, okay?”

Kise did not agree at once. Feeling as if he was voluntarily putting one foot in his grave, he dared to ask, “Who… _are_ you? How do you know me?”

The barrel of the gun pressed harder against his back, and Kise gulped. He didn’t dare to risk an apology, but thankfully his assailant was feeling merciful, as he only gave a semi-stern reprimand.

“I didn’t say you could speak, did I?” _Damn it, who are you?_ “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough.” Here, he heard the person behind him shuffle as if making some movement. The next thing he knew, his voice was closer than before, and suddenly there was a knife pressed against his neck, steely sharp and as cold as ice. He gasped in surprise, but was unable to exhale the air in fear of dooming himself to death.

“You, Kise-san, are going to do _exactly_ as I say.” The person said, and then chuckled in a low voice. “Or else…” He pressed the blade infinitesimally harder against Kise’s skin. “Do you understand?”

He contemplated his answer carefully. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, surprisingly chilly against his skin, and dripped onto the blade of the knife. Literally feeling as if he was stuck between a rock and a hard – not to mention extremely _sharp_ – place, his eyes followed the bead of sweat as it traveled down the blade of the knife, falling onto the gloved hands of its owner.

_I don’t have a choice, do I?_

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air. He felt a sharp jab of pain right above the barrel of the gun, and a part of him wondered whether it was really _that e_ asy to die. In the fraction of a second before he blacked out, he only – quite foolishly – managed to wonder why he didn’t see his life flash before his eyes as clichéd to do so.

The answer didn’t come to him on time, and quite suddenly, the world went black for Kise Ryouta.

* * *

_“Your place isn’t here, isn’t here…”_

It was the same song he had been listening to, precisely three years ago, when he had embarked on his world modeling tour. Now, he had grown a bit taller, and perhaps his hair was styled a tad bit differently, but it was still the same old song.

_“… So goodbye…”_

Humming along to the soft music filtering through one lone earphone, he rested his head against the airplane window and stared out at the vast ocean of darkness. Far, far below him, a few ways away, Tokyo lay on the bottom of the nightly abyss like a blanket of fairy lights. A bit closer, Haneda airport and its lights struggled valiantly to keep up with its more colorful neighbor, not particularly stunning in comparison but managing visibility none the same.

He was the same old Kise (but perhaps a bit wiser), and it was the same old song (but perhaps a bit less magical).

“Are you excited, Kise?”

“What for?” He asked softly, less enthusiastically than he would have otherwise. He knew his manager must have been wearing an expression of mild surprise at his indifference, as he chuckled lightly and elaborated his query.

“Well, you haven’t been to Japan in three years.” The middle-aged Tanaka’s voice was both rough and flamboyant at the same time, an unlikely mixture, but not altogether unpleasant. “You must have missed your friends and family.”

“I’ve missed my family, yes.” Kise opted not to explain the situation of the former; Tanaka knew as well as he why he had been so impatient to leave Japan. Three years had passed, but the name Kuroko Tetsuya still did manage to cause a certain amount of ache in his chest.

His manager noticed the obvious juggling of coasters, and decided to leave the brooding blonde to his own thoughts.

_“… Your place isn’t here, so goodbye…”_

* * *

He hadn’t stayed long at his rented flat; only a few minutes. After a quick clean-up and a change of clothes, he carelessly set down his belongings in the master bedroom, deciding to unpack later. He was almost itching with excitement as he went outside to hail a cab to his parent’s place.

But first, a word about his family.

His parents were rich, perhaps not as much as Midorima’s or Akashi’s were, but wealthy enough for a lavish lifestyle. They lived in the penthouse apartment of a luxurious flat, luxuriously decorated in mahogany and marble. Now, his sisters – both of whom were older than him – and himself, having become adults and having gained their independence, lived in their own apartments while their parents lived out their lives in laid-back relaxation. Having lived there until almost right before he went abroad for the trip, he was as close to his family (well, most of them, anyway) as peas were to their kin in a pod.

However, it was not without at least an ounce of trepidation that he rang the doorbell, wondering what would be waiting for him on the other side.

At once, a chiding voice answered from inside. “It’s open, Ryouta, just get in. Did you find a new _family_ while traveling the world? I didn’t think you were such a stranger that you had to _ring the doorbell_!”

Whatever doubts he’d had vanished at once at the sound of his mother’s familiarly soothing voice. Grinning, he turned the handle and stepped inside. He made quick business of his coat and shoes, and quickly stepped in through the entryway to the sitting room, where his mother leaned against the kitchenette counter, mirroring his grin.

“My, look at _you_ , you’ve grown!”

Making his way across the elaborately furnished room, Kise held his mother in a warm, lingering embrace. A thousand unspoken words passed between them, and he heard his mother sigh in relief upon receiving the silent message his son gave her.

_I’m okay, now, mom._

His smile widened as he pulled back to examine his mother properly. Mrs. Kise was quite pretty and extremely in-shape, considering she was nearly sixty now. Her graying hair was styled fashionably to fall gently over her shoulders, and she wore only a little make-up, just to add a bit of color to her pale lips. Decades of cheeriness had earned her a warm, permanently happy look to her demeanor, and the shape and shading of her eyes were quite like Kise’s. Both mother and son considered each other for a moment, and then Kise grinned, looking extraordinarily fox-like.

“I could say the same to you, Mom. Look at your _hair._ You’re almost as old as Nan now.”

“Haha, very funny.” His mother rolled her eyes, but was unable to keep her mouth from twitching in humor. “Make your jokes now, I’ll be dead soon. Ryouta, you look _peaky._ Didn’t they feed you at all while you were away?”

“Not at all.” He said fervently, frowning. “I nearly cooked my manager out of hunger, this one time in Peking.”

“Mm, he _is_ extraordinarily dishy.”

Kise cringed, and his mother’s grin widened. “Gross, Mom. You must be at least thirty years older than him.”

“Ha! That’ll teach you to mess with my age.”

They smiled at each other for a bit, feeling extraordinarily contented. Kise exhaled deeply, and couldn’t resist giving his mother another hug.

“Aww, you missed me, didn’t you, Ryouta?”

“Nope,” he teased, pulling away and retreating to lean against the dinner table, “but like you said, you’ll be dead soon…”

“No, _you’ll_ be dead soon.”

“Why ever so?”

“Because I’m going to cook _you_ for dinner if you make another quip about my age.”

“Wow, Mom,” he said, looking faux wounded, “you’re getting extraordinarily batty. Are you _sure_ you’re not Nan?”

“I’m _warning_ you, Ryouta…”

Kise giggled, relenting. “All right, all right.”

No more than a second had passed before the comfortable silence was disrupted once again.

"Well, aren't _you_ a sight for sore eyes?" A younger, monotone female voice greeted from the hallway between the sitting room and the kitchenette.

"Ane!" He exclaimed in pleasant surprise as his sister stepped into the sitting room, briskly walking up to him and embracing him a brief but warm hug. As they pulled away, Kise smiled at gave her a more thorough examination. Her ash blonde hair was pulled tightly into a smooth bun, and she looked professional and business-like in her impeccably ironed suit. Whatever force had graced Kise and his mother with good looks had similarly affected her as well, and the gentle, controlled smile she wore over her red-painted lips only emphasized her startling beauty. "I didn’t know you were here, hi!"

"Yes, I was just stopping by on my way home from work because mother had mentioned you might be coming today." She smiled at him more genuinely before bustling past the mother-and-son pair systematically, smoothly picking up her handbag from the dinner table as she went. "Speaking of which, I must go. My husband will be waiting. It’s been a busy day at work."

Kise laughed good-naturedly, but his mother rolled her pretty brown eyes as the front door closed shut behind his sister. "Ignore her, Ryouta. Raiha's older than I am."

The youngest blonde gasped in mock-surprise. "That's _possible_?"

"Idiot." His mother admonished cheerfully, tugging on his ear playfully as she did so. Kise at once pouted in typical overdramatic Kise fashion, and his mother chuckled again.

"Oh, it's just _you_!" A new, bubblier voice greeted happily from the hallway, this time admitting the oldest sibling of the Kise family into the room. "I thought Mom might have been experimenting with drugs, again."

"Nee-chan!" Kise almost shrieked, nearly knocking over his protesting mother _("_ Drugs _, did you say?")_ in his way to get to his sister. "You're here _too_? I thought you would still be in Korea for your tour!"

"I couldn't ignore my stupid little brother's homecoming, could I?" Kise giggled appreciatively at this, and she continued. "By the way, why do you always refer to Rai-chan with more respect than you do to me? _I'm_ your eldest sister, remember?"

"You're not my sister," Kise teased, "Mom got high and decided to adopt a mannequin from the Fairy Kei store down the block, remember?"

His sister Rukia _did_ indeed resemble a sparkly barbie. Everything from her eyelashes to her toenails glittered, and her blonde hair was streaked with pastel pink highlights. Kise admired her cute, strawberry print pastel sweater and matching pink skirt, and although he would never have said it to her face, she pulled the look off extremely well.

Ignoring their mother's semi-irked response ( _"Again with the drug reference! I'm telling you, I've been sober since the 0s!”),_ she placed two defensive arms on her slender hips. "Hey! Pastels are _in_ , okay?"

"Oh, yeah!" Kise slapped his forehead as if he remembered something, all the while grinning cheekily. "I forgot Japan was behind the times by a decade!"

"Says the model dressed in a _lilac_ shirt and _cerulean_ jeans!"

Kise laughed in defeat, indeed guilty. "Home is where the heart is, Nee-chan." She rolled her eyes, but giggled nonetheless. "Besides, I pull it off better than you."

Rukia would have retorted indignantly, had their mother not chosen that moment to thankfully intervene. "Now, play nice, you two.” She chided meaningfully before adding. “And I was never _addicted_ to drugs, alright?"

"Right." Kise smiled at his mother slyly. "It was just a phase."

"With you two as my children, it’s a wonder I haven’t picked it back up again. Now, I was _eighteen_ , so please, let it go!"

Both siblings obliged, each of them smiling to themselves. Kise wandered over to the cream-colored sofa and promptly dropped on it, turning his head back to address his sister, who had started to busy herself with the task of cooking dinner.

"Dad's not home, yet?" He asked a bit tentatively. Mr. Kise was an influential politician, and his relationship with his son had become a bit rocky after the _incident_ that occured three years ago, as it had arguably damaged his reputation quite a bit.

"He says he's working late." It was his mother who responded in a soft voice, leaning against the counter and carefully overlooking her clumsy daughter handle a knife.

Kise shrugged non-committedly, trying to ignore the sinking feeling of betrayal and abandonment. He turned his back on them and switched on the television before adding in a much more demure voice than before.

"Tell me if you need any help, okay, Nee-chan?"

Gently, she responded. "Right."

* * *

Dinner passed by with relatively little drama, and it was around 9pm that Kise stepped out into the streets of Tokyo to have a quick drink at a bar before crashing early. The night was chilly, especially considering it was late May. Though his shirt was fashionable, and it hugged the muscles of his torso _just_ perfectly, he began to regret leaving his coat at his parent’s place. As he walked, he blew cool air into his hands and lifted his eyes to the multicolored pillars of light that towered into the night sky.

Despite his earlier reservations, he couldn’t help but smile. Definitely, the three years he had spent weaving through exotic, megalopolitan cities like London and New York and Hong Kong had been exciting – almost magical to his youthful eyes. He had seen magnificent architecture, monumental statues, breathtaking scenery… he had seen quite a lot more of the world than most his age had, and yet none of it managed to compare to the beauty of finally being back _home_. Three years had been more than enough to mourn a death, and he was sick of it. He was sick of the nightmares and the demons he couldn’t seem to chase away, and he had sought a change of scenery as a remedy. Perhaps it had worked, perhaps it had not, but whatever the case, the lights, the colors, the hustle-and-bustle, the never-ending flurry of activity, the appropriate buzz of noise… none of the many cities he had been in had been comparable to the way his senses took in the beautiful nostalgia of home, and he was feeling it very aptly at that moment.

Three years ago, the sleek, modern pillars that had seemed to trap him within its grasp now seemed warm, welcoming and dotted with bright lights; flickers of hello. Every skyscraper was a familiar face, right angle by right angle by right angle, and he breathed in exhilaration as he devoured the conversant backdrop hungrily.

It was amazing to be back home.

He turned a corner, knowing it would take him deeper into the entertainment district. His strange sense of nostalgic euphoria kept urging him to enter one of the karaoke-slash-dance clubs he had so adored as a teenager, but whatever sanity that remained kept reminding him that he was exhausted after a long travel. Still, he had to put in an extraordinary amount of effort to refrain from entering one of the inviting-looking clubs, and instead stepped into one of the familiar bars, deciding that he would get just _one_ drink before heading back home.

He stepped into the warmth of the bar, abuzz with light conversation and laughter. It was decorated in a retro style, and a song from his favorite album, _PORTAL,_ by Galileo Galilei, played pleasantly over the din, from a jukebox in a corner. Smiling and waving at a group of young girls who had happened to recognize his face, but deciding not to allow them a chance to mob him, he walked straight over to the bar and sat down on a stool. Only then did he manage to grant the bartender a glance.

“Mitobe-san.” He noted in surprise.

The tall, thickly-built teenager he knew had only grown _further_ in those respects in the three years since he last saw him at Kuroko’s birthday party. The fabric of his long-sleeved shirt tightening over his muscles, he turned to face the blonde model and placed a glass in front of him before raising his eyebrows in surprise.

They stared at each other, stunned, and then Kise decided to risk a small smile of hello. For a beat, Mitobe didn’t return it, but then an infinitesimal smile crept over his lips, and he raised his eyebrows further, this time in askance.

“Er…” _Oh, yeah, my drink…_ he fumbled with his words momentarily, “um, sake mojito, I suppose.”

Mitobe prepared his order for him, silently as usual. The boy working the floor walked up to the bar as well, and Kise turned his eyes on the newcomer, unsurprised to see Mitobe’s usual partner.

“Koganei-san… wasn’t it?” he said, and the cat-like brunette looked surprised to find him there, and perhaps even _more_ surprised that the blonde recognized an unlikely character like _him_ , “you’re working here, too?”

Kise might have imagined it, but the pair shared a strange look that he could not read before Koganei turned back to Kise in order to answer his question. “Yeah,” he said with a smile, cheerfully enough, and Mitobe nodded assent, “Mitobe and I sort of decided that it would be nice to work at the same place. Besides, bars are really, really, fun. We meet all sorts of people, here.”

Kise smiled, and although it didn’t quite reach his eyes, he meant it sincerely. At least they were _talking_ to him, which was far better than what he could say about some other people. “Really?” He asked conversationally, taking a sip of his sake and Mitobe nodded emotionlessly. He wondered whether it would be tactless to ask where the others were, and thankfully decided against it. Perhaps it would be better not to risk his chances. On the jukebox, the song changed, this time switching to the one Kise had been listening on the airplane.

_“I can’t go, I’ll stay here and watch you_

_I’m sure it’ll be fun, but your place isn’t here_

_So goodbye…”_

“Well,” he spoke up after a minute of awkward silence uneasily, “I’ve been away on a modeling trip, actually.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen.” Koganei nodded, again sharing a strange glance with his partner. Kise fidgeted with the rim of his glass uncomfortably, and the brunette continued. “I can’t believe you got to work with Alessandra Ambrosio. You’re so lucky. She’s _so_ pretty _!_ Wouldn’t you say so, Mitobe?”

Again, Mitobe nodded assent.

Kise finished his drink, not saying anything further for a few minutes. The pair wasn’t particularly interesting to him, and to be honest, their telepathic conversations _kind of_ freaked him out. A new customer arrived, and the floor was getting busy, so both bartenders were obliged to turn their attention away from Kise. He stared at his own reflection in the glass, suddenly feeling a bit ill. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to see the others, after all…

Then, quite suddenly, things got worse.

“Kise?” A strikingly familiar, darkly raspy voice said with surprise, and Kise’s heart skipped a beat. Eyes widening, he turned his head sharply to his left, where none other than Aomine Daiki sat two seats away from him, wearing an expression of equal shock.

“Aominecchi…” he found himself murmuring, unable to reach lucidity. Three years ago, Kise had left Japan without so much as a text message response from Aomine, even though the desperate blonde had left him thousands of voicemails and missed calls even up until the very last second. Quite abruptly, the pain he had felt – not only due to Kuroko’s death – but also due to the loss of his closest friends returned to his heart sharply, and he found it hard to breathe. Despite this, he regained his composure. He had imagined a scenario like this occurring, and he had been prepared for it.

In theory, anyway.

Reality didn’t like to follow his plans. In years to come, Kise would look back on this occasion, and wonder _what_ had compelled Aomine to say what he said next, and still be bewildered without fail. The irony of it was that the rest of this story might have gone very, very differently if Kise had been able to continue the scene with the cool and collected dialogue he had so meticulously practiced in his head. But Aomine had always been an impulsive, heat-of-the-moment kind of guy. There were no cunning plans involved when it came to Aomine Daiki, and he always, _always_ said and did exactly as he pleased.

It was one of the things Kise admired most about him.

“Why the _hell_ didn’t you answer any of my calls!?”

Dead beat.

Silence, more shock. And then:

“ _What_!?”

“I _said_ ,” Aomine repeated, ignoring Mitobe’s raised eyebrows and not ordering a drink – instead scooting a seat closer – in contrast, Kise recoiled away, face scrunched up in furious disgust as if assailed by an acrid smell, “why didn’t you answer your stupid phone? I can’t believe you were git enough to actually _leave_ without letting at least _me_ know.”

Kise stared at him as if he was speaking Greek, and he might as well have. He had absolutely _no_ idea what he was talking about.

“What are you _talking_ about, Aominecchi? I called you for ages and ages! I left you a thousand messages, what the hell are you _saying_?”

Despite himself, Aomine’s cheeks flushed red with anger and he narrowed his eyes before lowering his voice. “You did so for a _week_ after Ku”— but he caught himself in time –“Uh, the incident happened!” Kise rolled his eyes at his weak save, but not before returning to staring at Aomine in incredulous fury at his words. “I would have thought you would have _wanted_ some freaking space, considering, you know, what happened!”

His amazed disbelief grew with every passing word. “Are you _thick,_ Aominecchi?” He whispered in an angry tone. “You know, I had come back to Japan wondering what kind of excuse you would give me for not responding to me at all, but wow, even _I_ didn’t expect _this!”_ He shook his head, pouting petulantly. “I can’t believe you’re _blaming_ me, of all things, you know?”

Meanwhile, Mitobe stood between the two behind the bar, observing the back-and-forth volley of fire and brimstone. Aomine grew, if possible, more frustrated.

“Of _course_ I’m fucking blaming you, you prissy dolt!” He slammed a hand down onto the bar, and a few worried customers actually looked their way. Kise did not recoil, and glared back steadfastly. “What did you do, change your number as soon as you went abroad?”

“Does it matter?” Kise responded coolly, though that was exactly what he did, “Stop lying about calling me, Aominecchi. Your excuses are bullshit, you know?”

“Your stupid suffixes are bullshit, Kise.” He retorted unoriginally.

“Fine then, how about I call you _lying traitor_ then? It has a nice ring to it.”

The fuming Aomine continued glaring at him stonily. “ _You_ were the one who left.”

“Yeah, and _you_ were the one who ignored me.” Kise said firmly, effectively ending the argument. Both young men glared at each other for a beat longer before promptly turning away simultaneously a la typical third-grader fashion, Kise crossing his arms over his chest and Aomine pinching the bridge of his nose.

_“You like it when I touch you here, don’t you?”_

_“Mmh… Aominecchi, please… ah…”_

Silence wasn’t treating him very well, and it was only to get these hazy memories out of his brain that Kise finally spoke up, albeit reluctantly.

“What have you been up to, anyway?”

He knew Aomine was debating about responding with the obvious _none of your business_ answer, but he didn’t seem to want to carry on in an adversarial manner either, as he grunted in defeat. “Lots of things here and there. I do errands for somebody, now.”

“What, like drug dealing?” Kise stared at him suspiciously, and Aomine scowled. This time he _did_ use the obvious answer.

“None of your business, Kise.”

Kise didn’t retort. He just snorted and lifted the glass to his lips, deciding to get over with his drink and get out of there as soon as he could. Rather than making him relax, the trip to the bar had just increased his stress tenfold.

_Stupid, stupid Aominecchi…_

The bemused Mitobe, who had sensibly decided not to interfere with their prattle, took advantage of the momentary silence and immediately began waving an empty shot glass in front of the brooding Aomine's face in order to get his attention.

Aomine, who was s _till_ sulkily glaring in the opposite direction, finally noticed the bartender's valiant attempts and turned his irritable eyes on him.

"What?" He snapped.

Mitobe wiggled the glass pointedly and raised his eyebrows twice. Aomine stared at him for a second, dumbfounded, and then his expression cleared.

“Oi, that's right, my drink!" He muttered, and then gave Kise a sidelong glare. "I was gonna go for something light but with _this_ one here that isn't an option... a scotch on the rocks."

Kise rolled his eyes. "Typical Aominecchi," he whined, "so _mean_." Then, deciding that he'd had enough for the night, he set his empty glass down on the table and sat up from his stool, shooting Aomine one final scowl. "You needn't bother. I'm _leaving_."

His plan of calmly and coolly stomping out of the bar almost worked. Almost.

He had just gotten out onto the street when Aomine caught up to him, and he jolted in surprise when the latter placed a hand on his shoulder to halt movement.

"Wait," he said uncertainly, "Did you see any of the others?"

Kise studied him intently for a second, unable to see where Aomine was leading him. "No," he finally replied doubtfully, "just you three. Why?"

Aomine gave him the strangest look just then, one he couldn't read very well… _Kami_ , was it _concern_? "Just..." he said cautiously, trying not to seem too interested, "just be careful, yeah?"

Kise observed him curiously. Aomine was a strange character, that was for sure, as he always been, but he was rarely as unreadable as he was just then. He couldn't understand his petulant mood swings and his insane bursts of temper, and it was driving him insane.

He would have been flattered, if he still hadn’t been completely furious with Aomine about earlier. As it was, his response was dry. "Thank you for the concern, Aominecchi, but I think I can manage myself. Now, if you please..." Here, he raised his eyebrows and smiled a bit forcefully in farewell. "I'll be going."

"Right." And if Kise had been less irritated, the lack of bantering retort would have made him uneasy, if not cautious on his way back home. As it was, he was just happy to have escaped the situation (it was completely understandable for him to be flustered around Aomine, _okay_?) and was still feeling a bit befuddled, partly due to the alcohol in his system, as he casually strolled back home.

“ _Your place isn't here_...” He hummed that old song again, taking a turn into an alleyway that served as a shortcut to his flat, " _So goodbye_...”

A low voice chuckled from the shadows, and Kise almost threw up a lung. He didn't realize that someone had been there, and started in surprise, nearly losing his footing. He was about to reprimand the guy for startling him, but he didn’t have a chance, because the next thing he knew, he had a gun pressed against his back.

" _Your place isn’t here, so goodbye..._ " He laughed, as if making a joke, "Haha, that's funny… because your place _isn’t_ here, Kise-san, and if you turn around, I'll have to _kill_ you."

* * *

Kise Ryouta stood very still, too numb from shock to be able to register fear. The barrel of the gun felt hard and cold and very, very _real_ against his back through the thin fabric of his shirt. His mind went blank, and it took all of his power not to act on his instinct and run for his life.

The recognition that mortality was both precious yet _very_ fragile was a startling combination of shock and fear that somehow managed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. For what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was perhaps a few seconds, Kise stayed silent, hoping his assailant would speak up.

Then, slowly, he raised his hands in surrender.

“I-I don’t know who you think you’re apprehending, attacker-san, but I assure you that you’ve got the wrong man…”

“Shh, now.” The voice was playful and vaguely familiar, but the name of its owner danced precariously on the edge of Kise’s memory, enticingly close and yet managing to be completely out of reach. “If you move, I’ll have to kill you, and that’s not going to be very fun for either of us, is it?”

Kise froze, again.

“Haha, good boy. Now, you need to listen to me, and do exactly as I say, okay?”

Kise did not agree at once. Feeling as if he was voluntarily putting one foot in his grave, he dared to ask, “Who… _are_ you? How do you know me?”

The barrel of the gun pressed harder against his back, and Kise gulped. He didn’t dare to risk an apology, but thankfully his assailant was feeling merciful, as he only gave a semi-stern reprimand.

“I didn’t say you could speak, did I?” _Damn it, who are you?_ “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough.” Here, he heard the person behind him shuffle as if making some movement. The next thing he knew, his voice was closer than before, and suddenly there was a knife pressed against his neck, steely sharp and as cold as ice. He gasped in surprise, but was unable to exhale the air in fear of dooming himself to death.

“You, Kise-san, are going to do _exactly_ as I say.” The person said, and then chuckled in a low voice. “Or else…” He pressed the blade infinitesimally harder against Kise’s skin. “Do you understand?”

He contemplated his answer carefully. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, surprisingly chilly against his skin, and dripped onto the blade of the knife. Literally feeling as if he was stuck between a rock and a hard – not to mention extremely _sharp_ – place, his eyes followed the bead of sweat as it traveled down the blade of the knife, falling onto the gloved hands of its owner.

_I don’t have a choice, do I?_

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air. He felt a sharp jab of pain right above where the barrel of the gun was against his back, and a part of him wondered whether it was really _that e_ asy to die. In the fraction of a second before he blacked out, he only – quite foolishly – managed to wonder why he didn’t see his life flash before his eyes as clichéd to do so.

The answer didn’t come to him on time, and quite suddenly, the world went black for Kise Ryouta.

* * *

…

_“Wake up, Kise!”_

Who was that?

_“Oi, shh, you need to be careful with your voice… Hearing a gunshot at that proximity wouldn’t have been good for his ears.”_

Wait, he wasn’t dead?

_“Man, I’m still jealous he got so much time to spend with those ladies. So unfair.”_

… What? Who was that? Why did all those voices sound so familiar to him?

_“Canyashadapbouttharaightna!!”_

Wait a minute…

_“What?”_

_“He asked you whether you could shut up about that for now, and I agree with him. Shut up.”_

_“Kise.”_

_“Kise, wake up.”_

Kise Ryouta’s eyes flew open, and the sudden brightness of the lights caused the adrenaline remaining in his system from earlier to go haywire. He nearly shrieked in shock when a couple of hands grabbed his arms to keep him from struggling; a commendable feat considering his massive strength as a pro basketball player.

“Kise, calm down! It’s us. We saved you." 

“Us? Saved?” He repeated, breathing heavily from his panic-induced anxiety from earlier. Finally, his dilated pupils adjusted to the bright light and he gasped in shock at the sudden clarity of his surroundings. Four figures hovered over him, silhouetted by the white lights hanging from the ceiling above. His eyes registered their faces, registered the familiarity, and he sat up, shock surging through him.

At the foot of his bed sat a man, athletically built and with a black mask covering his mouth and nose. His dark spiky hair was covered with a hoodie, but Kise would have recognized the intensity of those steely blue eyes anywhere.

Kasamatsu Yukio pulled the face mask down and scowled at Kise.

“What the bloody hell were you _thinking_?”

He stared back, still unable to comprehend the situation properly.

He needed another drink.

Like… now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was an absolute trainwreck. What do you think? Please do comment and kudos if you liked it! ^_^ Thanks for reading.


	3. The Old Man and the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I'm in a hurry to publish this before I go off to school; courtesy of the fantastic reviewers, of course! (I'm looking at you, saachariin, TheDarkWolfie, and sourinralia) So I don't have much to say right now. I hope you like this chapter, and please, please, comment and kudos as usual! Thank you for the support! 
> 
> Usual disclaimer, galileo galilei rocks, and so does fujimaki.

_老人と_ _海_

**_The Old Man and the Sea_ **

Kise blinked, once, twice, finally properly taking in his surroundings. He was in his apartment room, lying on his own bed, surrounded by five of his old teammates, all dressed in similar black hoodies. His nerves were still going crazy, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious even in the presence of five people he trusted very much. His fingers shook and his head hurt, and he was sure that there was a spot on his back that was bruising magnificently.

Kasamatsu sat cross-legged at the foot of his bed, looking over at him with a stern scowl. Moriyama and Koboji leaned by the balcony door, the former playing with his cellphone. Hayakawa couldn’t stand still, he paced the room back and forth, occasionally punching the air with his fists. Nakamura seemed restless as he fidgeted with the collar of his hoodie, chewing on his bottom lip in deep thought. Outside, it was still very dark, the distant lights of the CBD flickering over the sound of passing cars. The clock on his bedside table read that it was an hour past midnight.

His brain was working overtime to process the information, even though what it _really_ wanted to do was pack up and go to Hawaii for a long vacation. But despite the images of sunshine in the sand that his consciousness was conjuring up, he tried his best to focus.

He had been attacked and forced to choose between death and complying with the assailant’s demands. He heard a gunshot, felt a sharp stab of pain, and blacked out. However, aside from a vague, throbbing pain between his shoulder blades, he seemed to be very much alive… and somehow back in his apartment.

Alright.

First things first.

“How did you guys get into my apartment?”

No sooner had the question escaped his lips, Kasamatsu lifted his keys and rattled them, still wearing his trademark glare. “Found ‘em in your pocket.”

Well, at least that explained _one_ thing. “How did you guys know this is where I live?”

“WEBEENFLOWYOU!!!!!” Hayakawa exclaimed in a loud voice that Kise was sure would reach both his upstairs and downstairs neighbors and possibly the people down the block, too.

Scowling deeper and wincing, Kasamatsu shot a withering glare towards Hayakawa before returning his attention to the blonde. “Yeah… _that_ ,” he muttered, rubbing his temple, “we’ve kept an eye on you.”

“You’ve been _stalking_ me?” Kise whined incredulously. “So mean, you guys! Can’t you just talk to me like normal people?”

“But that’s not cool.” Moriyama said sagely.

“It’s not?”

“It’s not.” He continued seriously, “Ladies dig a spy.”

This earned a collective groan from the group. “Keep your trap _shut_ , Moriyama.” Kasamatsu grunted irritably. “ _I’m_ telling the story. Right. Carrying on…”

Kise raised both his eyebrows, feeling possibly more confused than he was at first. “Wait, hold up, why were you guys stalking me?”

Silence fell over his five teammates. They shared a solemn look with each other, and then turned to Kise as if they did not quite know how to phrase the answer to his query. Kasamatsu looked as grumpy as ever, but there was a film of cautiousness over his steely blue eyes as he regarded Kise.

Then, it was Nakamura who spoke. “Because the others were going to pin Kuroko Tetsuya’s murder on you as soon as you left Japan.”

Another lengthy silence followed this statement. Kise’s eyes widened, and he wasn’t entirely sure he still retained the ability to breathe. All attempts at semi-sarcastic humor vanished from his brain. His veins seemed to have gone cold, and time seemed to have stopped.

Almost choking, he managed to stutter. “W-Why?”

Kasamatsu shrugged. “The easy target, I s’pose.”

He felt his eyes fill up with shocked tears, and he had to bite down on his lip to keep from sniffling. Hurriedly blinking away the waterworks, he tried instead to focus on the matter on hand.

_“The others were going to pin Kuroko Tetsuya’s murder on you as soon as you left Japan.”_

_“Kuroko’s murder… on you…”_

_Kurokocchi…_

_They were going to blame me for Kurokocchi’s death…_

His voice was hoarse when he spoke next. “That _was_ one of the others just now, wasn’t it? Who was it? Why was he trying to kill me? Why would that accomplish anything? Weren’t they going to pin it on me instead? Now that it’s not working, do they want me dead or…?” He was going hysterical, he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about all the memories he had shared with them, especially with his closest friends from middle school. The realization that they were going to use him as a scapegoat, simply because he was just _there_ … Because he was the ‘easy target’…

He shook his head, his flaxen fringe falling forward to shield his eyes from his teammates. He was going to cry, but damn it, he had to focus.

“We don’t know who it was.” Nakamura said quickly, shifting his eyes away from the distraught blonde. Kise barely heard him. It didn’t matter who it was. At this point, everyone was a traitor.

_“Just… just be careful, yeah?”_

Everyone was a traitor.

“How did you guys save me?” He said at length.

“One of us had always kept tabs on you.” Koboji explained. “We were careful, but we didn’t think they would get down to it so _quickly_. You were lucky most of us were in the area. As soon as you got apprehended, I called the others, and Hayakawa here got to the alleyway just in time to kick you out of the way before Kasamatsu took a shot at the assailant’s arm to make him drop the gun.”

Hayakawa looked sheepish, and rubbed his head while Kasamatsu shot him yet another scowl. “Yeah, unfortunately he got _too_ excited and hit you so hard that you were knocked out. The guy got away while we were distracted by that.”

“You guys have a _gun_? Isn’t that very illegal?”

“Yeah, well,” Moriyama said non-committedly, “desperate times…”

Kise blinked, lifting his head. Despite the cold feeling swirling in his gut, he managed to crack a small smile. “You guys really care about me, right?”

Kasamatsu snorted, but he couldn’t hide the blush that sprang to his cheeks. Crossing his arms over his chest unhappily, he glared at the sheets on Kise’s bed. “W-We’ve always been a team, ‘right? Teammates look after each other, got that?”

“So wait,” Kise wanted to clarify, “you guys dropped out of college to form a gang just to save my butt? Senpai, I’m flattered!”

“Tch, hardly,” Kasamatsu rolled his eyes, “We’re still in college. This gang thing this is part-time.”

Moriyama nodded enthusiastically. “Chicks dig bad boys.”

Kise ran his eyes over the five of them. It had been such a long day, and not a very good one, at that. Yet when he turned his eyes downward, he felt a bit better than he had before. He studied the denim patterns on his light jeans.

“Thank you, you guys.” He whispered, almost inaudible. “I don’t know what to say.”

All the emotions within him raged about furiously, gratitude battling with betrayal. Neither managed to win over the other, and in the end they both rose to the tip of his windpipe, and an anguished sob escaped the blonde’s lips. Bending over and burying his face in the cradle of his hands, he thought about the happenings of the day, about the happenings of three years ago, about how warmth could be found even in the most unlikely places, about how everything had gotten so _fucked_ up, about how weak humans were as a species and how _fragile_ he truly was, and Kise finally released his long-restrained tears.

His friends saw themselves out quietly, but he did not move even for a long time after they had left. At length, he turned off the lights and fell back onto the soft mattress of his bed. He stared up at the reflection of the city lights swirling on his ceiling, blurry through the thick film of his tears, as desperate, pitiful sobs choked their way up his throat, making his chest shudder with their every step.

_“The others were going to pin Kuroko Tetsuya’s murder on you as soon as you left Japan.”_

He gasped for air through his tears, feeling very much as if he was drowning. He wished he was. How easy it would be to just sink back into the softness of his bed and drown, drown, drown; how easy it would be to forget about everything and call it a day and end it.

_Let me drown, let me drown…_

Alas, life had other plans for him, and even though his anguish was as heavy as the ocean itself, even though his pain dragged him down to its depths, he did not manage to drown. For a long time, he lay there, emptying his broken soul into the crystalline tears that streamed down his cheeks, never-ending and endless.

He finally drifted off to sleep within his own sea of tears, clutching his pillow like a lifeline, afraid that he might not wake up again if he didn’t have something that would anchor him to the harsh reality that he now called his life.

* * *

 

Kise bent over, laughing as he clapped his hands onto his knees. The towel around his neck drained most of the sweat from his hair, but a few drips fell onto the street court from the ends nonetheless. Wiping his face and feeling extraordinarily content with himself, he straightened up and gave a cheeky smile to the short, expressionless, cerulean-haired boy jogging his way holding a basketball under his arm.

The sun were in both of their eyes, but Kuroko Tetsuya’s eyes were narrowed a bit further than Kise’s, possibly due to irritation at the blonde’s mirth.

“Kise-kun, it is a bit mean of you to laugh at me like that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding very sorry. He hugged his sides and laughed cheerfully. Kise Ryouta’s laugh was a magical, infectious sound, and even the icy Kuroko couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the happy sound. “But your air ball was really funny, you know, Kurokocchi?”

“I am a bit bad at shooting, Kise-kun. Please do not make fun of me.”

Kise sobered slightly at Kuroko’s somber tone. “I’m not, I’m not,” he said hastily, and then attacked the blue-haired boy with a tight hug, “You’re my best friend, Kurokocchi, how can I make fun of _you_?”

Kuroko wriggled out of his grasp, but it was with a slight smile that he said. “You’re not my best friend, Kise-kun.”

“So mean!” He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away. “Why do you hurt me like this, Kurokocchi?”

Kuroko did not reply.

“Kurokocchi?” Kise asked in alarm, turning on his heel to search for the shorter boy. “Where did you go?”

The street court was empty aside from himself and the wind. His eyes widened in fear, wondering where his friend could have gone. “Kurokocchi, please, this isn’t very funny, you know? I’m sorry for laughing at you, before! Please, come back?”

No response. The sun had disappeared behind a large raincloud, and Kise suddenly felt very cold. His sharp honey brown eyes searched the area for a sliver of light blue hair, but to no avail.

He opened his mouth to call out to Kuroko again, but he was cut off by the sound of a distant whistling. He looked up to find something falling from the sky, vaguely humanoid and terrifyingly familiar. Barely a syllable of his name escaped his lips before the object crashed onto the cement of the court with a bone-chilling, painfully loud _thud._

He stared with eyes wide, unable to breathe. Kuroko’s dead, limp form lay in front of him, eyes wide and unseeing, hair matted with blood. Kise’s hands shook in fear, and Nakamura’s voice echoed within his ears over and over again.

“ _The others were going to pin Kuroko Tetsuya’s death on you as soon as you left Japan.”_

* * *

 

Kise yelped, waking up with a jolt.

He was disoriented for a few seconds, and blinked several times until the horrific image seeped away from his brain. His shirt clung to his skin, wet with perspiration, but he felt very, very cold. He exhaled deeply, turning his eyes to the balcony to see dull light seeping through the partly-drawn curtains. Outside, the sky was overcast, grey and ominous.

Kise dared to shut his eyes again as his breathing slowed down. He placed an arm across his feverish forehead and fell back on the bed while his body calmed down of its own accord.

_It was just a dream._

He wished he could tell himself that everything was okay, but it wasn’t. He rolled over onto his front, burying his face in his already tear-stained pillow, wondering whether he would ever be able to escape the nightmares that haunted him every night. Despite the fact that he wanted to do nothing more than to pull his quilt up to his chest and go back to sleep, he reminded himself that he had something that needed to be done. Still, it was with a heavy heart and heavier footsteps that he finally rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change his clothes.

Five minutes later, Kise looked nearly unrecognizable as he stepped out onto the street and begun a slow walk, unusually empty due to the overcast sky and early hour. He wore a large sweater he hadn’t worn in years, and the ratty, old, but comfortable jeans. He wore no make-up as he hadn’t really had the energy, even though the dark circles under his reddened eyes were a stark contrast against the paleness of his cheek and lips. The only part of him that bore any resemblance to his usual self were his eyes, the only seeming color against its dull backdrop.

At length, he stopped his walk, right in front of the bar he had visited the night before. Trying to be nonchalant, he peered in through a window to see if the person he sought was inside. Though he didn’t expect it, he was still disappointed to realize it otherwise. He swallowed his discontent before leaning against a wall and crossing his arms, eyes scanning the empty street. It was a working day for most of the public, and thus the crowd in the entertainment district during the early morning was predictably thin.

Kise did not relent, though.

He would wait.

He couldn’t take any chances, at this point.

* * *

 

Midorima Shintarou was a prodigy, and he knew it. He was only twenty-one years old, and yet it would take him only two or so more years of studying to become a qualified doctor – of _course_ he was a prodigy. As it was, he was already as skilled as most doctors, although he couldn’t serve in a clinic due to lack of recognized credentials.

He had just finished his morning classes, and had set down on the chair by his single room apartment desk to catch his breath (dorms were unsanitary, and if he could afford the room, why risk his health?) when the doorbell rang. Curious as to who it might be, he got up again, only a little bit irked, and walked over to the door to address the visitor.

The man standing by the door wore a dark hoodie, and though Midorima couldn’t see his face, he recognized him easily by the hazy gray eyes and the voice. “Haha, I’m sorry to bother you, again, Shin-chan, but…” His green eyes flicked to the puncture in the black hoodie, around which the fabric was damp with blood.

“Come inside.” He interrupted briskly, opening the door further to admit his friend. The latter staggered over to the chair the former had been previously occupying before promptly crashing into it, exhausted and out of breath. Midorima did not say a word, but in a rather routinely manner walked over to the kitchenette cabinets and began selecting some items of choice.

_Bandage… antiseptic… tweezers… cotton…_

“What is the cause of injury?” He asked systematically. The man sitting in the chair unzipped and then removed his hoodie to reveal his medium-length dark hair. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead above his striking gray eyes. The short-sleeved shirt he wore was also black, and the gunshot wound was a stark red against the paleness of his skin. Despite the fact that he seemed to be in obvious pain, he smiled at the taller man standing by the cabinets.

“Haha… I sort of… Well, I got shot in the arm.”

Midorima scowled, unsurprised but unimpressed nonetheless. “Why do you refuse to go to the hospital, nanodayo? I am not a doctor, Takao.”

“Ah, but you’re as good as they come, Shin-chan. Also, I hear jail is pretty nasty.”

His scowl deepened, but he did not retort. He transferred all his necessary items to the desk, and gently grabbed the darker-haired man’s arm, observing it carefully. Takao studied him intently, unable to resist a smile at his angry expression. Midorima caught him smiling, and his green eyes burned furiously behind the lenses of his glasses.

“Scorpio was first today. You are in luck, nanodayo.” He sighed before beginning to clean the area around the wound with antiseptic. “The bullet only grazed your arm, and your arteries are all fine.”

“Ah, but I got shot by the bullet, yesterday, Shin-chan.” Takao teased cheekily, and then winced when Midorima deliberately applied some pressure onto the wound, scowl deepening even further.

“Scorpio was first yesterday as well, fool. Do not defy fate.”

Takao would have rolled his eyes, but he opted instead to raise his eyebrows dryly at the furious doctor-to-be as he finished cleaning up the wound. He worked in silence for a bit, punctured only when he equipped the tweezers to remove the bullet from Takao’s arm, and the dark-haired boy yelped quietly in startled pain.

He began dabbing at the wound with antiseptic, again. He had always known Takao to be foolish, but these games were getting out of hand, now.

“Takao, why are you partaking in this tomfoolery, nanodayo?”

Takao sighed, not meeting the green-haired boy’s eyes. “Self-preservation, I suppose. Everyone’s trying to pin it on one another, and I honestly had no idea what to do, y’know?” He flickered his eyes to the scowling green-haired boy to see his reaction, and then, apparently satisfied, returned his eyes to the plain white ceiling.

“I am a part of everyone, too, Takao.” Midorima reasoned, now binding Takao’s arm tightly with a gauzy white bandage. “I opted not to involve myself, and thus I am not involved, nanodayo.”

Takao’s lips twitched in discontent. “It isn’t that simple, Shin-chan.”

“Of course it is that simple, nanodayo.” He finished binding Takao’s arm, using a scissor to cleanly cut through the bandage. He leaned back to assess his work, his expression relaxing in self-satisfaction, and then straightened up to go wash his hands thoroughly and cleanly. “You fools just do not realize it is.”

Takao stared at his old teammate’s back, watching the way his muscles flexed underneath his shirt as he washed his arms. Perhaps it was that simple, perhaps it wasn’t, but the truth was that Midorima would never accept him if he expressed the truth. He was far too frightened and far too hesitant to even begin to comprehend the true reason why Takao was involved in this entire mess.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He said lamely, attempting half a smile as Midorima finished washing his hands. He shrugged his hoodie back on, and Midorima stared at him in disgust.

“That thing looks filthy. You would be better off not wearing it, nanodayo. Your wound needs some air.”

Takao grinned at the green-haired boy, standing up from the chair and pulling the hood back on. It fell forward to shield his face, and he turned away in order to leave.

“Thanks, doctor-chan. I’ll probably be back again, soon.”

Midorima rolled his eyes. “Try not to, nanodayo.”

“Oi, that’s right.” Takao realized that he had forgotten something as he turned the handle of the door. He took a step outside before tilting his head back to ingrain Midorima’s face in his brain one more time. “Kise-san’s back.”

Midorima didn’t reply, but rather shrugged nonchalantly. “Let him be, nanodayo. It is of no concern to me anymore.”

Takao smiled half-heartedly. “Right.” And then he shut the door, and he was gone.

The man remaining in the apartment sighed, running a frustrated hand through the cleanly smooth strands of his mossy green hair. He stood up, adjusting his spectacles, and walked over to the desk to clear it up, trying to understand why his emotions kept fumbling whenever he thought of the individual who had been in the apartment just moments earlier.

_Whatever you are doing, be careful, Takao._

* * *

 

How many hours had passed?

_Where is he? When is he going to come?_

Kise rubbed his shoulders, feeling chilly. The wind had picked up, and the air tasted of rain. He predicted that it would start drizzling soon. He raised his eyes, twin honey brown circles of agitation and panic. Many a stranger had given him an odd, pitiful look, and Kise knew he must look very miserable but he neither cared nor bothered. He did not worry about even being recognized, though the chances of it were very unlikely. Both in demeanor and appearance, Kise Ryouta was not the one who stood in front of the bar that day, but a broken shell.

He exhaled deeply, just as miniscule water droplets fell onto his hair from the heavens above. He didn’t care.

He would wait.

He had no choice.

_Where are you, Aominecchi?_

* * *

 

Akashi Seijuro was _not_ a prodigy, and he was aware of this fact.

“Satsuki.”

Akashi’s voice was cool and collected, hovering on the precipice between light and imposing. He carried his words as if on a light breeze, even though every sentence he spoke usually had a significant impact or other on everyone in the vicinity. He sat at his smooth, mahogany desk, one leg crossed over the other and one finger gently brushing his lip in thought.

Akashi Seijuro was no prodigy when it came to the field of law, no. Rather, he was the master himself, having gained the qualifications of a lawyer in just _two_ years – a phenomenal feat on a universal scale.

An attractive, pink-haired young woman made her way towards him, rosy eyes imposing and cool behind the lenses of her glasses. She wore her make-up tastefully, and her hair was tethered into an attractive ponytail. She smoothed down her figure-hugging blazer as she paused in front of her boss’s table, eyebrows raised and awaiting orders.

“Ryouta’s back,” the redhead addressed, “is he not?”

The woman lifted her smartphone, scrolling through some of the contents. “Yes, Akashi-kun,” a flicker of worry betrayed her calm countenance as she mentally overviewed the possibility of her friend’s return, “I’ve received reports that Ki-chan is currently staying in a hotel near his previous residence.”

Aware but oblivious to her discomfort, Akashi Seijuro smiled. “Everyone has gathered, then. How nostalgic.”

Momoi, understanding that it would be better not to reply, remained silent. A beat of silence passed, and then:

“Satsuki, I need you to find me Ryouta’s new contact number. I must make a call.”

The momentary anxiousness in his secretary’s eyes deepened. She hated conflict, and more so between her closest friends. For years, they had been apart, but at least they had left each other alone. Now, it seemed, things were about to change. Despite this, she answered with clarity.

“Yes, Akashi-kun. Just give me a moment.”

Akashi smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. Now that his key player was back, he could finally put his game-changing plan to action.

* * *

 

Morning turned to noon, noon turned to afternoon, the sun set, and the sky was slowly darkening under the burden of the heavy rainclouds. The downpour had been relentless, and Kise had been soaked for hours now, shivering and quivering but unwavering to his task.

“Please, let him come.” Kise’s teeth chattered as he whispered to himself, raising his eyes to the heavens above. He knew he must look like a crazy person. Maybe he _was_ a crazy person at this point. Either way, he didn’t very much care.

It was past seven o’clock, and the rain had thinned to a slow drizzle when his prayers finally bore fruits. Aomine Daiki came to the bar for his usual nightly drink, only to stop in his tracks when a cold, strongly familiar pair of hands grabbed his shirt from behind and halted his movement.

“Tch, piss off…” He was about to brush whoever it was off, until he flicked his eyes back and saw that the soaked, sweater-clad stalker was one of his friends. His eyes widened, and he turned around to face the blonde. Kise’s eyes were wide and heartbreakingly fragile, his usually rosy lips pale, shivering from the cold. He was soaked, and his hair was matted to his forehead, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in almost a year.

Aomine didn’t think he had ever seen Kise look so miserable, so out-of-control.

“Kise?” He asked, bewildered and worried. “Oi, what happened to you?”

Kise didn’t reply. He just stared at Aomine pathetically, lips shaking and eyes filling up with tears again. His entire _body_ was shaking, and he just looked so very, very broken that Aomine himself felt anguished at his misery. The blonde exhaled shakily, and Aomine recovered himself, asking louder this time.

“Kise, get a hold of yourself, damn it! What the hell is wrong with you?”

The pair was a wet spot against the happy and busy hustle-bustle of Tokyo’s colorful nightlife, and more so because Kise looked so pale he was almost see-through. At length, Kise replied, an unsteady whisper that was barely audible over the din of the late-night entertainment crowd.

“What… what is going _on_ , Aominecchi?”

Aomine’s blood went cold. “What do you mean?” He asked quietly. “Did something happen to you?” The blonde didn’t answer, and his lips shook precariously, as if on the verge of explosion. “Did somebody hurt you, Kise?”

Another long silence, punctuated only by Kise’s shaky breaths. “Why… why didn’t you _tell_ me, Aominecchi? Why didn’t you tell me they were going to blame me for Kurokocchi dying?”

Aomine stared at Kise, at a loss for words. A million excuses rose to his lips, a million lies he could tell the blonde, but the poor boy just looked so broken, so fragile, so _lost_ that every one of those meticulously orchestrated words just stammered on the precipice of his lips, unable to escape. Kise looked at him, and anyone who had been on the receiving end of his glance would have felt exactly how much agony he was in. When Aomine didn’t reply, the blonde lowered his gaze in defeat, unable to articulate the pain flowing through his veins.

“You wanted to blame me, too, didn’t you?”

“No.” His answer was blunt and sincere, marked by certainty and his desire to assure him of it. He regained his composure, turning his gaze downward, and grunted. “I’m not stupid… I know y’didn’t do it.”

“Then explain why they’re all at fucking _war_ over Kurokocchi dying,” Kise’s helpless rage exploded suddenly, and Aomine raised his eyes to him in surprise, “and you didn’t give me even a _slight_ warning aside from ‘ _Just be careful_ ’!?”

Aomine’s mouth open and closed, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“I nearly _died_ , last night, Aominecchi! I had a gun pressed to my back, I felt the brunt of having a knife pressed to my _neck_!” He shrieked helplessly, tears streaking his pale cheeks, and Aomine tried to shush him, for they were gaining curious looks from worried passersby. “No, no, _no_! I will _not_ shut up! I’m so _sick_ of this!”

Finally, unable to help himself, Aomine responded just as heatedly. “Do you think you’re the _only_ one going through this, Kise? Tetsu was my best friend, too!”

“ _Fuck_ what you’re going through, Aominecchi, I don’t _care_! I’m telling you, I nearly got fucking _killed_ , last night!”

“DO YOU THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE?” Aomine bellowed back. “I’M GOING THROUGH THE SAME FUCKING THING, KISE!”

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO _DO_ , THEN?” The blonde shrieked back, unfaltering. He took a step closer to Aomine, and shoved him back with all his might. Aomine staggered back, but only just barely. Kise shoved his shoulder again, perhaps at a weak attempt for a punch – the blonde was never much of a fighter, and was especially feeble at that moment since he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. This time when he shoved his shoulder, Aomine was ready to push him back, but quite surprisingly, Kise held on to the fabric of his jacket.

Aomine’s stared down at the blonde’s hand, speechless once more. Kise’s entire form was quivering, from emotion or cold or fear, Aomine wasn’t sure. Kise’s other hand reached up Aomine’s torso to cling onto the fabric of his other shoulder, and the blonde lowered his head; the ends of his hair tickled the scratchy skin underneath Aomine’s chin. Unsure of what to do, the pair remained in that position for a few seconds, and then finally, Aomine’s hand reached up to bury itself in the back of Kise’s hair. Surprising even himself, the tanned boy’s eyes filled up with emotion-wrought tears.

“I don’t know what to _do_ , Aominecchi…” Kise’s voice was muffled with tears, and he gasped for air between every few syllables. His breath was warm and comforting on the skin of his chilled neck. “I… I’m so _scared_ , you know?”

His grip on Kise’s hair tightened protectively, infinitesimally. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I know.” And he did.

“How did everything get so… so _fucked_ up, anyway?” Kise whispered, barely audible, his damp eyelashes and nose brushing the crook of Aomine’s neck and shoulder. “How did everyone just… how did we fall apart so _easily_?”

To that, Aomine had no answer. “I don’t know.” He muttered, his voice hoarse and dark and comparison to Kise’s soft and broken soprano.

Kise’s sobs increased, and Aomine gently guided him further into the crook of his neck. Kise’s fingers tightened on the fabric of his shirt, afraid he might lose Aomine if he slackened his grip, and the latter wrapped his other arm around his friend’s back, pulling him close. Then, for a long time, they stayed that way, Aomine’s lips brushing the softness of Kise’s damp hair, and Kise quietly relishing Aomine’s warmth as he cried his heart out within the safety of his arms.

Just then, Aomine realized how precious and fragile a creature love was. It went almost hand-in-hand in trust, one unable to coexist without the other. He realized things were sort of like that with the both of them, and his chest swelled with emotion, but he swallowed his tears.

They couldn’t be together. He knew that with certainty.

Kise’s sobs finally slowed down in both intensity and pace, but neither of them knew how long had passed. Neither of them cared much, either. Still, Kise did not want to pull away from the comfortable warmth of Aomine’s arms, and only did so when he was obliged due to the ringing of the cellphone in his pocket.

Sniffling, he extaracted the phone, clad in its usual waterproof coat, from his pocket as he pulled away wordlessly, and answered the call without bothering to check the caller ID.

“Who is it?” He asked in a sad, small voice.

“Ryouta.”

The two-syllabled name was enough for Kise to recognize the voice. Nobody else could manage such authority and feather-light ease with the demeanor of his speech. Kise’s eyes widened, and he turned away from Aomine, clearing his throat in the process.

“Akashicchi?”

“Ryouta,” Akashi repeated again, skipping formalities. “I have decided that you are to meet up with me in Kyoto at your earliest convenience.”

Suspicious, he inquired. “Why?”

“I know who it is, Ryouta.” Akashi replied simply. “I know who killed Tetsuya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it thickens! Please do comment and kudos! OK I'M VERY LATE RN, SO I'LL BE SEEING YOU GUYS NEXT CHAPTER. Thanks again for the love! (also, this was not reread, i'll edit the mistakes later!)


	4. Wolf of the Flower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This chapter is relatively short, but completely exhausting to write. I didn't think I was going to be able to finish this any time soon, but then sourinralia, bless her soul she's fantastic, wrote practically an entire essay as a review, striking inspiration within me. This chapter being up so early is all thanks to her. Thanks again for the support, by the way! Thank you so much to the reviewers, Laura, antheas, Amy, TheDarkWolfie, FranBunny, and of course, sourinralia for reviewing and making my entire week lovely! Thank you to everyone who gave Kudos too, by the way, and everyone who bookmarked and read and liked my fic! ^_^ 
> 
> Disclaimer: Galileo Galilei is awesome, and so is Fujimaki.

花の狼

**_Wolf of the Flower_ **

Akashi’s eyes were cold and calculating, a la his _other_ demeanor. An exquisite crystallized glass of champagne sat in front of him, untouched, and though Kise was thirsty, he could not bring himself to trust the equally refined flute sitting on his side of the table either.

He felt nervous, and not without reason. Akashi’s eyes seemed to probe through his consciousness, searching for some information that would assist him, and the terrifying part of that was that that was only _slight_ hyperbole. Information was precisely what Akashi sought from Kise, and he knew the redhead would go to any lengths to retrieve it.

“Ryouta, you look extremely tense.” The redhead noted without even so much as a trace of irony, oblivious to Kise’s discomfort. “Does this mean you have cause to be afraid of me?”

Kise attempted a smile. “ _Everyone’s_ afraid of you, you know, Akashicchi?”

The redhead’s lips curved infinitesimally upward, though his smile did not come anywhere near his eyes. Kise’s mother always used to tell him that he could judge someone’s sincerity from their eyes, and _this_ side of Akashi had eyes that never ever smiled. His coolness was bone-chilling, and the words he spoke next were possibly worse.

“As they rightly should be.”

He squirmed in his seat, studying the elaborate floral print on the silk tablecloth – anything to avoid those _eyes_. He was quickly beginning to regret coming to see Akashi, as they were already twenty minutes in, and the redhead didn’t seem to be in any rush to begin the conversation. Rather, Kise guessed, he was waiting to see if Kise would crack under the pressure and ask him for his thoughts.

So why hadn’t he?

Only one thought stopped him from inquiring Akashi about the killer: _What if it_ was _Aominecchi?_ It could be, it easily could have been him. Perhaps Akashi saw the incident occur… or, or perhaps _Akashi_ was the one who killed Kuroko and he was looking for a scapegoat.

Which was him.

The easy target.

He shook his head imperceptibly, and his neatly arranged fringe flew from side to side. Goodness, this was screwing with his head. Things had already been topsy-turvy, but ever since Akashi’s phone call from a week ago, his mentality had pretty much flipped upside down. He trusted Aomine, at least, more than he did anybody else, but the words _I know who killed Tetsuya_ had been spoken with such certainty that… well, it was only natural for the cautious mind to have doubts.

The plus side was that he was – at least momentarily – past his brooding phase, opting rather to remain cautious and aware instead. He had his career as a model to think about, anyway, and he had to maintain his handsome image. Thus why he was now sitting in the lounge of an expensive hotel, dressed as fashionably as ever, with his old team captain and ex-friend in silence, casually waiting for the other to speak up about the matter of visit. A part of him wanted to bolt from his seat, but another part wished that Akashi would hurry up and get on with it, already.

Several minutes of silence passed; the agitated Kise tapping the tablecloth with his fingers and scraping his boots back and forth on the carpeted floor, the calm and confident Akashi observing the former with what looked like casual interest to the passerby, but was in reality deep analyzation.

Finally, Kise cracked.

“Are you going to tell me who did it, Akashicchi? You’re making me curious, you know.”

Akashi smiled again, his eyes alight, evidently happy about this new development. “You would be quite interested to find out, would you not, Ryouta?” He tilted his head, expression growing, if possible, cooler. “And if it is, as I am certain you are in fear of, Aomine Daiki, what ease would my telling you the killer give your mind? They say ignorance is bliss, _Ryouta_.”

Kise’s lips twitched in dissatisfaction. Whatever he had come for, he hadn’t bargained having to prolong a bantering conversation with the redhead in question. “At least I would _know._ ”

Silence fell between the pair. Purely for the sake of having something to do, Kise picked up his flute and took a sip of the golden-colored champagne. It was excellent, as expected, but it did not cloud his agitation as he had hoped. He took another sip and set the glass down, resisting the urge to glare at the redhead sitting in front of him. At length, Akashi exhaled slightly – _kami_ , was that a laugh? – and wore his cool, tiny smile again.

“I expect you will find out soon, Ryouta.” These were evidently parting words, as he began to rise from his chair, pulling a wallet out of the pocket of his suit pants as he did so. He flickered his eyes to the blonde sitting by the table, and extended the small smile he wore. “I will take care of the bill.” He stated firmly, starting a slow walk towards the counter, though Kise knew it was more an act of pride than goodwill. “In the meantime, Ryouta, be careful about who you trust.”

This was not advice – this was a warning. Kise’s warm brown eyes grew surprisingly cool as he regarded Akashi with apparent dislike. He got up from his chair and took a hesitant step forward. “I can tell who the enemy is, Akashicchi.”

“Oh? So you do.” The other retorted calmly, with the air of one commenting on the state of the weather. “Excellent, then. It makes matters quite easy for all of us.” He tilted his head to a side, sending Kise a chilly look from the corner of his eye. “Until then, Ryouta.”

Fuming and at a loss for words, Kise turned on his heel and began walking in the other direction, wanting nothing more to get as far away from the redhead as soon as possible.

* * *

He was halfway down the road when his cellphone rang. He wore a scowl quite unlike his usual bubbly self, and his eyes were burning hot enough to melt ice, and so it was quite predictable for him to snap irritably upon answering the call, too angry to bother checking the ID.

“ _What_?”

The person on the other end of the line was his manager, and he was understandably bewildered. “Kise-san? Is this you?” Kise’s eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed in sudden embarrassment. “It’s me, Tanaka. I was calling to give you some good news.”

His expression softened, as did his voice. “A-Ah, sorry, Tanaka-san, you caught me in the middle of something, you know?” He laughed quickly, hoping he could brush over it. It worked. A beat of silence passed as Kise navigated through the rush of the morning crowd before finally making his way into a secluded alleyway, perfect for a private conversation. Kise exhaled deeply and asked in a much calmer, collected voice. “What’s the good news Tanaka-san wanted to give me?”

“Well, actually, I know how hard you’ve worked over the past three years, and the boys and I were talking…” The boys referred to the rest of his coworkers and fellow models working at his agency, _ZunonBoy!_ , “… and we’ve all agreed that you would like to take a short break from work… Full pay, of course. Would you like that?”

“What?” Kise asked in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting or wanting anything of the sort, and was quite shocked. No, no, no, no, _no_ … he could absolutely at no cost afford to take a break from work, not right now. The stress of hard work was possibly the only thing keeping his mind together. “Did one of the others tell you I would want a break, or something?”

“Not exactly… but Kise-san, isn’t this what you would want? We understand that…” here, there was a pause, and his manager lowered his voice significantly, “We understand that you’ve gone through some stressful things… and maybe all this hard work could add too much strain to your mentality.”

Kise felt a bit trapped. “Wait, wait, what?” He asked, loudly. “I _like_ work, Tanaka-san, I would prefer to keep modeling.”

“Yes but,” here, the person on the other end of the line fidgeted uncomfortably, as if he hadn’t quite wanted to say what he was going to say next, “your shots from the past week haven’t been up to your usual standard, Kise-san. You’re our finest model, and we need you in top condition to model.” Kise listened to him in jaw-dropped disbelief. “And whether you like it or not, we’re giving you a vacation, Kise-san. In the meantime, I’ll be happy to suggest some excellent psychiatrists to you.”

Kise suddenly felt very cold. He didn’t know how he was going to cope with all the extra leftover time he got without his modeling job. “T-That won’t be necessary, Tanaka-san.” He said as pleasantly as he could muster, finally, though his throat felt coated with sawdust. “I’ll be sure to take care of myself. I know this is for my own good, so thank you very much for everything you guys are doing for me. And it’s okay about the pay thing, I can survive.” He could – he was bloody loaded, after all. “Thank you once again, Tanaka-san. I’ll make sure to keep in touch.”

He didn’t hear the relieved pleasantry his manager exchanged with him in farewell. When the other end of the line fell silent, he ended the call and tucked his phone into his pocket. Then, he leaned back against the heavily graffitied wall and looked up at the blue summer sky through the small sliver of space between the two high-rise buildings. He stayed that way for a long time, the birds passing over the clouds reflecting in his yellow irises, which had gone unusually glassy.

Feeling possibly even worse than he had when he had come out of the hotel, he slipped into the hustle and bustle of the working crowd and started making his way back home.

* * *

(December 24th, 2012 _[5 weeks before the death of Kuroko Tetsuya_ ])

Aomine Daiki loved Kise Ryouta.

This, he knew for certain.

The metal door of the locker room clanged open forcefully, swinging back forward after hitting the tiled wall. Kise’s lips were insistent against his own, hungry and wanting and needy. Their breaths mingled together as the pair kissed each other, the blonde’s hands cupping his cheek eagerly, impatiently pressing his body against his own. Aomine could feel every orifice and every seam of his well-toned body through the thin, wet film of their sweaty jerseys, and more so due to their heightened senses. Everything in that room, to him, at that moment, was Kise, from the intoxicating smell of golden apples and musk and a scent that was so completely _Kise_ , to the sweetened taste of cinnamon on his lips as they kissed intensely, even to the tingling of his fingertips as they traced over Kise’s toned back over his thin jersey shirt.

They had never done this before, and their lips were sloppy against one another, and yet neither would have looked back on the moment and noted a single thing wrong with their movement. Songs and poetry and movies spoke of kisses that were like perfectly synchronized dances, each move correlating with the other in perfect accordance, but this was nothing like a song nor a poem nor a movie. The insistent kisses they shared were all new, with a constantly-changing pace, somehow oscillating through the vast spectrum between gentle and needy and wanting all at once.

They were just supposed to be _friends_ , they both knew, but Aomine loved him and maybe in some manner, Kise loved him back, but the earth-shaking, resonating, terrible, _wonderful_ truth was that they both knew they couldn’t deny the chemistry they had between each other. Kise hadn’t been able to, at any rate, as it was he who had initiated the agitated battle they presently fought with their unrelenting lips. In fact, with each passing second, Kise got more and more invigorated, even going so far as to pressing Aomine back against the tiles of the locker room.

At length, they pulled apart for air, staring into each other’s eyes; Kise’s honey brown irises were filled with want and disbelief, disbelief that they were finally doing this together, disbelief that they had put this off for _so_ long. They panted heavily, the hairs on Kise’s forehead brushing and tickling his skin, the air between them charged with heavy static.

Aomine loved him, _fuck,_ more than anything else in the world, he loved Kise Ryouta, and it broke his heart into a million, _billion,_ shattered pieces to know that he didn’t love him back, that he never would, not as long as Kise had even the slightest idea that Kuroko liked Aomine, but he also wanted him so badly, and neither of them were thinking straight. They couldn’t resist each other, they had never been able to, but now that they had finally had a taste of each other, they knew they would never be able to stop.

This time, when Kise leaned in, Aomine answered without hesitation, cupping his cheeks and implementing the full force of his need through the insistent movement of his lips. Kise sighed deliciously, perfectly, against his skin as he did so, and the fire within him grew hotter, hotter, and before he knew it they had moved all the way across the room; Kise was pressed between the lockers and his own, needy, resolute body, and _fuck,_ Kise’s soft lips were on his neck, now, nipping and breathing and sucking on his heated skin. Aomine hissed through his teeth and nuzzled the smooth, wonderful-smelling hairs atop the blonde’s head, his hands finding purchase on the perfectly-toned abs underneath Kise’s sweaty shirt. His nails dragged across this sensitive skin, and the blonde sighed against his collarbone, sending shivers up his spine.

Kise pulled back from his neck as Aomine’s arms slid further up his shirt, caressing and massaging his smooth skin. The blonde sighed contentedly, closing his eyes and touching his forehead to the other’s, finally truly appreciating the beauty, the delicious wonderfulness of their physicality. Aomine relished this intimacy, and quite suddenly, he made what was possibly the worst mistake of his life.

“G-God,” he gasped without thinking, smirking wolfishly all the while, “I love you, Kise.”

He realized a moment later that something was wrong when Kise’s hands dropped from his shoulders, and the blonde pulled away, eyes wide in shock. Aomine stared back, horrified at his own mistake.

“N-No, hey, wait, I didn’t mean that, d-don’t...”

Kise was still breathing heavily, lips bruised and pink from the intenseness of their kisses, but it was quite obvious that nothing was going to happen. The air between them had gone cold, and a second later Kise regained his bearings, tearing his eyes away from Aomine’s and turning towards the direction of the door. “I-I have to go, Aominecchi…” he murmured lamely, briskly turning around and leaving the locker room.

Aomine exhaled deeply, feeling his innards turn to lead; the fire from earlier had all but burnt out. He leaned back against the locker, swallowing, feeling as if his heart was too fraught with agony to function properly.

Aomine Daiki loved Kise Ryouta.

Kise Ryouta did not love Aomine Daiki.

This, he knew for certain.

* * *

Alone and back in his apartment, Kise didn’t think he still remembered the number by heart until he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed it, and he didn’t think he would want to do such an action until he had actually done it. He inhaled deeply while the phone rang once, twice, and then the person on the other end of the line picked up.

“Yeah?” His husky voice sounded heavy with sleep.

“A-Aominecchi?” Kise asked uncertainly. “Are you asleep?”

“Kise.” There was some shuffling on the other end of the line, and Aomine’s voice was much clearer when he replied. “Nah, I’ve been up for a while. This your new number?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, and then waited silently, unsure of what he actually wanted from the other. Aomine waited patiently on the other end of the line, and a full ten seconds had passed before Kise spoke up again.

“Can I meet up with you?” He said in a small voice. “I could use a drink.”

A beat of hesitation, and then: “Yeah, why not?” Aomine grunted. “The usual bar, right? See you in five minutes.”

Kise smiled a bit and hung up after saying goodbye, feeling a tad better. He didn’t know why exactly the promise of seeing Aomine Daiki cheered him up after the god-awful day he had had. He told himself that it was because he just wanted a friend (even though he could have just as easily called Kasamatsu if that was what he yearned), but that was only because he did not really understand how deeply the feelings he had for Aomine was rooted in his heart (not yet).

* * *

Aomine was already there when Kise arrived. He did not look at him, but wore a slight smile as he slid onto the bench across the table he sat, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin in the cradle of his arms. Aomine had already ordered a drink – scotch and ice again, despite his earlier insistence that he usually drank light had it not been for Kise – and was sipping it, wearing his usual wolfish smirk on his lips.

“Had to do your make-up, I’m guessing?”

“Actually, my face is all clean,” Kise retorted cheerfully, tilting his head and subconsciously regarding the toned, tanned skin of Aomine’s neck, “but thank you for telling me I look as good without make-up as I do with.”

Aomine snorted. “That’s a blatant lie. Your lips can’t be that pink, naturally.”

Kise licked his lips visibly and grinned foxily. “Can and is, Aominecchi, and you _know_ it.”

“Yeah,” the other grunted, with less of sarcasm in his voice than before, “I guess I do.”

Kise stared at him cautiously, but was mercifully saved from the prospect of questioning the implications by the arrival of his glass of sake mojito. He raised his eyebrows at the tanned boy before taking his glass and lifting it to his lips, relishing the sweet and sour taste.

“I didn’t know you ordered for me.” He noted in surprise, and Aomine grinned wolfishly.

“It was the only drink available prissy enough for a snob like you.”

“Hey!” Kise exclaimed defensively, taking another sip. “Sake is _classy_.”

“Sure, if you’re a fifty-year-old geezer.”

“Mm, I’m quite gorgeous for a fifty-year-old geezer, aren’t I?”

“Humble, aren’t you?”

“You didn’t deny it, did you?”

Here Aomine laughed; a quick, bark-like sound that left Kise smiling in mirth. It suddenly hit him that he hadn’t heard the alluring sound in a long, long time. It was suddenly very obvious to him that Aomine rarely laughed nowadays, and he found himself relishing the fact that the time he _did_ laugh, it had been for _him_.

“You’ve got the entire world telling you that, Kise,” Aomine’s grin stretched over his face as he leaned forward; Kise tilted his head and smirked back, “you don’t need _me_ to fill your ego as well.”

“But what if it’s _your_ compliments that I want, Aominecchi?”

Aomine blinked, the ocean of blue in his eyes traversing the distance between playful naughtiness and sudden cautiousness in the time it took to do so. He leaned back slightly, and the smirk still remained on his lips, but he seemed a bit wary, now.

“You and I both know that ain’t true, Kise.”

Kise fingered the rim of his glass in thought, looking at his reflection in the foggy liquid of his drink. He exhaled, and the air formed ripples on the surface, blurring his face out of his vision. He took another sip of his drink, unsure of how to respond.

“Do you really think so?” He asked softly, not looking up, and out of his periphery he saw Aomine lift his eyes to him in surprise, although he regained his posture a moment later, appearing even more cautious. However, his smirk returned to his lips, and he took yet another sip of his drink.

“You want the entire world, don’t you, Kise?”

Kise shrugged and grinned back, honey brown eyes glinting mischievously. “Maybe not the entire world, but what I want is something pretty _big_.”

“ _Wow_ ,” Aomine laughed his bark-like laugh again, and Kise laughed with him this time, the merry sound joining together in an odd-sort of harmony, “Wow, Kise, are you _really_ that horny? Is that why you called me here?”

“I was joking, you know!” He said hurriedly, ignoring the blush that rose to his cheeks at the idea of physical intimacy with Aomine. “I-I meant that figuratively, anyway. Like, something big… as in… you know, hard to achieve.”

“ _Right,_ of course.” Aomine remained smirking at him wolfishly despite the assurance, the sharp whiteness of his teeth a perfect contrast against his dark skin.

“A- _Aominecchi_!” Kise whined, hiding his face in his hands, unable to hide the redness of his flush. “Stop being so _mean_!”

“I will, _geez_ , you don’t have to cry about it,” Aomine teased lightly, and Kise couldn’t help but smile into the protective cradle of his hands though he did not fully understand why. He lifted his head and met Aomine’s eyes, and suddenly feeling very content, he smiled openly and fully at Aomine. The tanned boy raised his eyebrows at the sudden sincerity of Kise’s action, and stared at him in dumbfounded hesitation for just a second before he smiled back just as widely, feeling, for the first time in a long, long time, truly satisfied.

Right then, right there, Aomine studied Kise intently, and burned the image into the back of his brain; golden eyes and hair shining under the rays of the afternoon sun, creamy skin flushed with rosy happiness. Because despite everything that had happened, and despite all the pain they had been through (and predictably will go through in the future, Aomine thought privately), Aomine Daiki still loved Kise Ryouta from the bottom of his heart.

Kise always had a lovely smile, but the one that he wore just then was so wonderful that he could have tanned himself (further, of course) in the sheer brilliance of it. It was the sort of smile that truly spoke of satisfaction; that painted the utter image of happiness itself.

Aomine had no chance against his charm, he knew it. He had always been a soldier fallen in battle, weak and limping when it came to Kise Ryouta, and his condition only seemed to worsen over the years.

_I love you, Kise._

_No matter what._

* * *

It was well after dark when Kise finally sauntered out of the bar, glowing from his happy day and waving at Aomine as he grinned and raised a hand in farewell while walking away in the opposite direction. He laughed to himself happily, because despite the truly awful undercurrents of the day, it had not ended on such a bad note.

It was a pity for him that it hadn’t really ended at all.

He hadn’t taken two steps forward when a tiny, petite stranger approached him. Kise had still been looking at Aomine’s retreating back, and hadn’t realized somebody had been talking to him until the stranger grabbed the sleeve of his jacket urgently, gentle but insistent at the same time.

“Kise-san,” he returned to his senses, and turned his attention to the person standing before him. At first, he had no idea who he was, but he studied the mousy brown hair, the wide, unblinking eyes, the dismayed expression that seemed to be fixated permanently into his features, and suddenly he realized who it was.

“Sakurai-san,” he said, surprised but not without an ounce of suspicion. Sakurai was not one of the people who had been present at the fateful party, but everyone he was acquainted from his highschool days had automatically became enemies to him in his eyes.

“Kise-san,” Sakurai was stuttering, “I-I’m sorry, but-but you can’t do this, Kise-san.”

“Can’t do what?” He spluttered back, surprised at the vaguely demanding request, especially considering it was coming from someone he had never ever talked to before.

“Y-You can’t trust Aomine-san.” He blinked and then blushed. “I-I’m sorry for saying this, but I had to. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Kise stared at him in shock, but in a moment regained his composure. He raised his eyebrows at the shorter boy, coolly now. “And why should I believe you? I don’t even know you, Sakurai-san.”

“I’m sorry!” The brunette apologized hastily again, seeming more harried with every word, but not before he chewed on his lower lip and leaned in slightly as if to whisper a secret. “I-I know Kise-san cares about him, I have seen you two spend time together a lot recently b-but you can’t trust Aomine-san.”

The blatant sincerity in his words were shocking to Kise. _“In the meantime, Ryouta, be careful about who you trust.”_ Feeling a bit numb, his lips shook as he finally allowed himself to ask. “Why not?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Sakurai leaned in even further, and lowered his voice so that only Kise would hear him, “b-but while we over at his place a few months after Kuroko-san… you know…” he trailed off uncertainly, studying Kise, but then regained his speech, “… well, we sort of had a reunion party at Aomine-san’s house and I felt bad about the mess and I stayed over to clean up as much as I can even though Aomine-san didn’t know I had stayed and…”

Here, the brunette looked panic-stricken, and Kise was beginning to feel more than a bit uneasy as he continued.

“I overheard Aomine-san talking to someone inside his room when I went to go tell him I was leaving. A-And I’m sorry but the door was slightly open and I peeked in through the crack and Aomine-san was drunk and he was holding a picture of Kuroko-san, and…”

Kise’s skin had gone very, very cold, suddenly. The brunette broke off, swallowing uncertainly before continuing in a sad, small voice.

“… I heard him speaking to the picture, Kise-san. I’m sorry but what he said was very clear to me. He said, ‘I didn’t want to do it, Tetsu. I had no choice. But it was the only way.’”

The world deafened into silence after Sakurai spoke those words. The brunette must have spoken some sort of apology to him (again) and left, but he did not register any of it. Kise stood there in front of the bar, feeling a sort of chill that left him feeling cold and dry.

Fate was a cruel, cruel master, and Kise was the poor slave kneeling by His feet, completely defenseless against His whimsical decisions.

_‘I didn’t want to do it, Tetsu. I had no choice. But it was the only way.’_

* * *

Mr. Kise had been tired after a day of work, and had long since turned in. Mrs. Kise was finishing off a well-deserved nightcap after a long day, and smiled to herself as he sat up from the table to go wash her glass. She was just about to switch off the light and retire to her bedroom when the doorbell rang.

Feeling confused, she made her way to the front door, tightening her robe around her nightclothes. Hastily arranging her messy hair, she cracked open the door, wondering who could be calling her at such a late hour.

“Ryouta?”

Kise stood at the door, shaking from head to toe, eyes wide and broken. His cheeks were stained with streaks of tears that hadn’t had a moment to dry, and his hair was messy and all in all, he was in a startling state of disarray. He didn’t respond, and his lips were quivering as he stared at his mother.

“Ryouta, speak up! What on earth happened to you?”

“Mom…” He whispered in a cracked voice as he stepped inside, and his mother stared at him in shock-induced fear. Both mother and son stared at each other for a beat longer, and then Mrs. Kise shut the door behind her son systematically, giving the boy another long, searching look. And then, something in her expression broke.

“Oh, Ryouta…”

Mrs. Kise wound her arms around her youngest son, and Kise began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. That was absolutely draining. You all possibly hate me now. I'm sorry for hurting Kise, and I'm more sorry, because from here on it just gets worse. c: Lots of love! Please do review and kudos!


	5. Summer Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. You guys have been wonderful, and I have been AWFUL. I am so sorry about the slow update, but I've been really, really, REALLY busy with schoolwork and really hadn't found the time to write the chapter before this. I took an entire night off and managed to scrimmage up the new chapter, but I haven't reread it AT ALL so I can just pray to god that all of it makes even a slight bit of sense. Lots of love to NaomiFujiwara, shmyng, Lilly, Lizzie, sourinralia and Jilchan for the reviews! You guys are the best! ^~^ 
> 
> Please, do review~

夏空

**_Summer Sky_ **

* * *

 

The sky shone a brilliant blue outside Akashi Seijuro’s window. It was a pleasant sort of day, both humid and hot yet neither at an excessive rate. A gentle breeze flitted through the air, and his sharp eyes caught the silhouette of a crow glide the wind directly underneath the sun. He debated over opening the window, but decided against it upon hearing the gentle footsteps of Momoi Satsuki enter his office.

“Akashi-kun, I’m done compiling the data.”

Directly behind him, separated by his desk, he heard the shuffling of a sheaf of papers being spread systematically. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he confirmed via his excellent periphery that it was indeed the information he had asked for. Nodding gently, he turned his head back to face the window, features as coolly expressionless as ever.

“And have you analyzed it?”

“To the best of my ability.” The usually bubbly Momoi replied as stiffly and respectfully as a soldier would to his commanding officer.

“Have you found a lead?”

Here, Momoi hesitated, and the reluctance was not lost on the redhead standing before her. He raised his eyebrows infinitesimally, but appeared unsurprised as he smoothly turned back to face the pink-haired woman. The latter lowered her eyes, but her wavering confidence was enough to convey to Akashi the message she wanted to hide. A bit displeased, the redhead cocked an eyebrow before calmly addressing the other.

“Satsuki, I am sure you are well aware of the incident that occurred three years ago, and I am sure you are well aware of your own feelings about the subject in particular.” Here, Akashi lowered his eyes to the papers, quickly scanning over them. When they rose next, to stare at the tentative pink-haired girl, his voice held a slight hint of amusement.

“You _have_ found a lead, Satsuki. You are commendably intelligent for having reached the same conclusion as I.”

Momoi looked, if possible, more uncomfortable. When she raised her gaze to finally meet the redhead’s mirthless stare, her rosy eyes were beseeching.

“Please, Akashi-kun,” her voice trembled half-heartedly, even though she knew as she spoke that there wasn’t – not after she had seen the evidence for herself, “if there’s another way”—

“Satsuki.” Akashi interrupted coolly, “Are you perhaps suggesting that the murderer of Kuroko Tetsuya deserves to roam free, unpunished for his misdeeds?”

Momoi frowned further, her pretty pink lips forming a miserable pout. “N-no, of course not…”

“No? Then I expect we will not have any further objections on the matter.” And he might as well have ordered it. He crossed his arms over his chest, and cocked an eyebrow at his leading detective. “You have figured out which path leads to the success of this case, Satsuki.”

Despite her earlier reservations, Momoi seemed a bit more confident than before. She met Akashi’s eyes and nodded evenly, calmly (motionlessly). “I have, Akashi-kun.” She assured. Akashi seemed pleased.

“And am I right to say that your speculations are similar to mine?”

Momoi managed to crack a small, calm, even (comatose) smile. “You’re always right, Akashi-kun.”

Akashi smiled back, calmly, evenly (lifelessly).

“Question Ryouta, Satsuki.” He vocalized, finally. “He holds the answers we need to complete the case.”

* * *

 

Kise Ryouta stood inside his old room, his ear pressed against the mahogany door, straining to hear the conversation outside. His fingertips and lips shook precariously, and though he was dressed and _clean,_ he looked as if he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in _years_ (which, to be fair, he hadn’t), but if there was one thing whatever remnant of his sanity warned him, it was to stay inside until his father had left.

“I love you.” His mother’s gentle voice filtered in through the barrier, “Have a nice day.”

“Yeah,” came the coarse response from his father, “you too.”

Kise counted his steps, heard the turn of the handle and the swing of the door, and then his mother’s gentle farewell reached his ears, followed by the muted thud of the door closing behind his father. He counted ten beats on his fingertips patiently, mentally willing himself to relax. Then, he plastered on a fake smile and yawned artfully before stepping out of the bedroom.

Too bad his well-rehearsed play was seen right through by his mother.

He tried to slip past her quickly, too obvious to even be called a sorry attempt at surreptitiousness, and his mother predictably impeded his path. Mrs. Kise was not a stern woman, but the look she wore on her face just then was extremely stern indeed, and her son was forced to pause in his tracks immediately.

“Ryouta,” she said, grabbing his arm gently and coaxing him to look her way, “Ryouta, tell me what’s wrong.”

_‘I didn’t want to do it, Tetsu. I had no choice. But it was the only way.’_

_‘G-God, I love you, Kise.’_

Kise bit down on his lip, trying to calm his heart’s panicky palpitations. His mother caught the dilations of his pupils, the fear in his honey brown eyes, and was understandably worried further.

“Ryouta, you’re worrying me.” She warned.

_‘I’ll be gentle, Kise… but that isn’t what you want, is it?’_

His breath hitched, and tears filled his eyes.

_‘G-God, I love you, Kise.’_

“Ryouta!”

_‘I love you, Kise.’_

Reality returned to him like a splash of water, and he inhaled sharply, turning his frantic eyes toward his mother’s anxious orbs. He realized that his fingernails had been digging into his palm, and judging by the sting, he had managed to hurt himself. His mother’s fingertips were equally rough on his trembling arm, and he swallowed deeply, unable to properly reach lucidity.

“Ryouta, I’m calling the ambulance.” His mother said in a worried whisper.

That managed to startle him from his depths of anguish. “W-Wait, no,” he said unsteadily, blinking several times until his surroundings focused again, “I’m fine, Mom, I promise.”

“No, you’re most certainly not fine, Ryouta.”

More forcefully this time, he smiled and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. “I’m fine, Mom, I just…” he exhaled deeply, shaking his head, “rough night.”

His mother followed his movements suspiciously. “Ryouta, you’re not doing drugs are you?”

Despite everything, Kise managed to laugh, though his mirth carried undertones of bitterness. Drugs? He wished. “Mom, are _you_ fine? Me? Drugs?” He laughed more forcefully, and his mother looked more worried still. “I’m _fine_ , Mom. I was just… drunk. Stop acting like Raiha.”

His mother looked cross as she folded her arms across her chest and studied him a bit doubtfully now. “Alright, alright,” she relented uncertainly, and Kise felt a surge of relief, immediately followed by a wave of disgust. Here he was, withholding vital information about a murder case from his _mother._

But then again, it was better not to involve her in any of this.

Two pairs of honey brown irises met each other; one beseeching and the other probing. Kise smiled at his mother again, though this time the curve of his lips betrayed a miniscule bit of the anxiety in his heart. His mother squeezed his shoulders, feeling helpless as she considered her inanely stubborn son.

“You’ll tell me if anything is wrong, right, Ryouta?”

Kise forced himself to maintain eye contact, guilt and horror surging through him simultaneously as he lied through his teeth. “Of course, Mom.”

“Alright,” his mother leaned forward to peck him gently on the cheek, “Be well, Ryouta.”

“You too, Mom.”

* * *

 

Aomine brought the cigarette to his lips, taking in a deep drag. He allowed the bitter taste to swirl down his throat, burning his lungs as they whooshed back out. The smoke fogged his vision, but the deep cerulean of the summer sky managed to shine through the graying mist.

Kuroko’s eyes had been almost precisely the same shade; if only a bit paler. How many secrets had those eyes conveyed to him? How many truths must he have betrayed by now?

He inhaled deeply, exhaled again, and relished the momentary obscurity the smoke granted him. It was so simple, so _easy_ to get lost within the smoke.

But the blue of the sky always returned to haunt him, no matter how many times he ran away.

_“Aomine-kun?”_

This time, he closed his eyes and took in a deeper huff. He lowered his hand, allowing his wrist to rest on the left calf of his crossed legs, the lit tip of the cigarette dangling dangerously close to the somewhat damp grass.

_“Hn?”_

He exhaled before opening his eyes, allowing the foggy smoke to irritate his vision and breath.

_“We will always be friends, will we not?”_

Kuroko Tetsuya had been his _best friend_.

The cigarette quivered in his fingers. He snubbed the fire out with the plastic of his sneakers and flicked it somewhere behind him, wishing that the bitterness of the cigarette would be strong enough to wash away the cocktail of hurt resentment swirling in his heart.

_“Tch, you high, Tetsu?”_

Kuroko Tetsuya _had been_ his best friend.

_“Please do not mock me, Aomine-kun.”_

Kuroko Tetsuya _had been_ a lot of things. Kuroko Tetsuya no longer was _anything_. Kuroko Tetsuya was part of the once-upon-a-time past tense. Kuroko Tetsuya could have been sitting here next to him, overlooking the skyline of Tokyo city. Kuroko Tetsuya could have been his confidant; Kuroko Tetsuya could have been his advisor; Kuroko Tetsuya could have been, could have always _remained_ his best friend.

Kuroko Tetsuya was gone, and it was all his fault.

_“Yeah… always.”_

He took one more breath, two, and then he was hunched over in desperate anguish, the long blades of grass tickling his forehead as the wind rustled past the hilltop. His eyes had long since run out of tears, but the agony in his heart, the guilt thudding through his consciousness, the torn and frayed strings of his sanity… none of these things had managed to heal over time.

“I’m so sorry, Tetsu.”

The gravestone in front of him, quite predictably, remained silent.

“I’m so sorry.”

* * *

 

“I’m sorry!” Kise Ryouta echoed, somewhere within the city as he weaved through the morning crowd and accidentally bumped into a hassled stranger. A few people looked back as him as he rushed through the street, but he paid them no heed.

Damn it, damn it, he needed to get somewhere far away, somewhere he could be _alone…_

_‘I didn’t want to do it, Tetsu. I had no choice. But it was the only way.’_

It was the only way for what? For Kise to love him back? Because Kise knew Aomine loved him, _god_ , more than anything else he knew Aomine loved him. But Kuroko loved Aomine while Kise did not – no, _could_ not love him – no, not as long as Kuroko had feelings for him.

(But did he?)

(Wasn’t that just a lie he had told himself so that he could make himself feel better about being too scared to accept the intensity of Aomine’s feelings?)

At this point, it didn’t matter. Because Kuroko was dead. Kuroko was rotting away under the earth, and he was not. And it was all because of something Aomine did.

_What didn’t you want to do, Aominecchi?_

_Kill Kurokocchi?_ Murder _Kurokocchi?_

A ghastly image crept into his brain; a vision of a blank-faced Aomine standing at the edge of a precipice, and a horrified Kuroko emitting a broken yell as he toppled down into the abyss below.

_‘I didn’t want to do it, Tetsu…’_

His stomach gave a mighty lurch, and Kise made it into the alleyway just in time. He dashed down the narrow path and collapsed onto his knees behind a dumpster, retching out the minuscule contents of his stomach, chest heaving with sobs as well as nausea. More than anything, he kept wishing he could get rid of the anguish in his heart just as easily.

For a long time, he heaved, even when there was nothing left to come out. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t smell anything, properly. He stared blankly at the pool of muck by his knees, wondering how everything had gotten so fucked up. Three years ago he had been carefree and happy-go-lucky; some might have even considered him a fluke. But he had always been smart, and he had always been in control of himself.

His fifteen-year-old self would have looked at this sorry image of a man and laughed in disbelief, because this broken creature was not Kise Ryouta. No, not anymore.

After a while, the world returned to focus, and the acrid smell of his puke reached his nose, startling him into reality. He was still a bit dazed as he straightened up and wiped his mouth with the back of his jacket sleeve. The sun peeked out from behind a passerby cloud, and he shielded his eyes with the same sleeve as he looked up at the sliver of sky available between the cracks of the buildings. He stayed that way for a long time, and then finally took a deep breath before sauntering out back onto the street, wondering whether he looked as dead as he felt inside.

He walked bleakly through the crowd, keeping his head down. A section of his mind warned him that he should probably go home and change, so he altered his route to head back to his apartment.

So what if Aomine had been the one to kill him? Why would that bother him so much? He should be glad – _happy,_ even – that the one who murdered Kuroko was finally getting what he deserved. So why did his throat close up, and why did his heart shrivel up in the manner of a wilting leaf whenever he even pictured anything bad happening to Aomine?

All the evidence pointed directly to him, but something was amiss. In his heart, Kise Ryouta knew that Aomine Daiki was innocent. He _had_ to be.

But why? Because they had a trashy, common, one-night-stand? Did that automatically bond them for life? No, they had both been very young, and they had both wanted a release from their pent-up sexual frustration. Their having sex had been perfectly understandable even though the circumstances of the night had been rather dire.

This was something else.

Kise Ryouta didn’t understand it quite yet, but he was reaching there.

* * *

 

He stood under the shower for a long time, contemplating current affairs. It was a humid day, and the cool water on the back of his neck was refreshing. He told himself over and over again that by the time he came out of the shower, he would be completely in control of himself, and that he would not have a mental breakdown within five minutes. Moreover, he was going to stay there for as long as achieving that would take.

He wasn’t aware of how much time passed, but he was certain that if there was such an entity as Mother Nature, she would be shaking her head at him in disgust at how much water he was wasting. Fuck that. If Mother Nature was pissed at him, let her destroy the world. It would probably be an easier prospect to stomach than facing his fears.

He juggled that thought for a bit, and then scoffed to himself, rinsing shampoo out of his hair. Thoughts of Mother Nature and the Armageddon… he _was_ going insane.

He cut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist as he got out. Water dripped from his hair onto the tiles below, and the reverberating chill was comfortably revitalizing. Something in the background was bothering him, but he couldn’t place his finger on it, so he ignored it and stepped out of his bathroom and into his bedroom, reaching for another towel to dry his hair. Firmly keeping his thoughts together, he pulled on some underwear and jeans, and was about to find a shirt to put on when he finally registered what was irritating him.

A rapping noise.

Someone was knocking on his door.

Somewhat cautiously, he made his way through his apartment to the entrance. He hesitated for a fraction of a second with his hand on the doorknob, but then he unlocked it and twisted the door open.

A rosy pair of eyes stared back at him, cautious and tentative. Kise stared in shock, and it was a miracle that his mind didn’t unravel again right then and there. Rather, he managed not to choke on his own breath, and open and shut his mouth, uncanny to the movements of a goldfish.

“Hi.” Momoi Satsuki said a bit nervously, her voice quivering. “Listen… Ki-chan, can I talk to you?”

A million thoughts raced through his mind, the first and most notable being: S _he knows. She knows I know that Aominecchi was the one who did it._ His mind could not figure out how she had reached this somewhat illogical conclusion, but right then and there he could have sworn on his mother that he was _certain_ that she knew. Why else would he be there to question him?

“Um,” he began hesitantly, thinking about declining, but then trashed the thought. It would be better for him to talk to her. Perhaps he could sort out at least a fraction of his jumbled sanity. “Alright, why not?” A part of him wanted to mourn his ex-prevalent bubbliness, for his voice sounded like a funeral march. “Let me just put on a shirt.”

“Of course.” Momoi replied, and though her voice was courteous, Kise noted that he was not the only one who seemed to have lost the dynamicity of his voice. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said, trying not to seem too obvious about his forced cheeriness as he opened the door wider, “take a seat.” This he said whilst gesturing to the sofa near the door.

He formed several stories and several excuses in his mind as he went back to his room. After rummaging a few suitcases, he picked a plain black sweater on pulled it on, patting his hair dry with a towel as he returned back to where Momoi sat on the sofa, studying his apartment nonchalantly. Kise studied her; she had grown notably prettier over the years he hadn’t seen her, and her features were as youthful as ever although she seemed to have lost the childish curvature of her facial structure. She was dressed in a formal skirt and blazer, and clutched a file that read _Akashi Law Firm._ From that, it was easy to deduce that why she was here, and Kise suddenly felt more guarded than ever. Despite this, he decided that he should treat her as friendly until proved hostile; Aomine _was_ her best friend, after all.

(But then again, she had _loved_ Kuroko, much more than she had Aomine.)

“Would you like something to drink?” He offered with a small smile as he draped the towel over a stray chair. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything much besides orange juice, though…”

“No, that’s fine. I won’t bother you for long.”

He supposed that was his cue to say something like, “ _Why, after I haven’t seen you in so long? Why would I be bothered, Momocchi?”_ and perhaps when he had first returned to Japan he might have given a similar retort, but Momoi had chosen a terrible day, and he was _not_ in the mood to play up false banters.

What would either of them say, anyway? There was no more room for hearty reunions, not when everything had ended on such a bad note for everyone.

He remained silent, walking over and sitting next to Momoi on the sofa. He felt his eyes probe her carefully, and suddenly felt quite vulnerable. Momoi was possibly the smartest person he knew, Akashi aside, and in her rosy, guarded eyes she had always held the power to gain even the most carefully hidden of secrets.

“Are you alright, Ki-chan? You look very pale…”

Kise smiled slightly and turned his gaze toward her. “I’m just feeling a bit ill, but it’ll be alright. What did you need me for, again?”

Momoi looked even more uncertain, but she opened the clasp of her file and peered inside before pulling a pen out of her blazer pocket. “Right…” she started nervously, and both youngsters were startled by the stiff unfamiliarity of their conversation, especially considering the closeness of their relationship before, “I was just wondering… if you could tell me a bit about Dai-chan.”

_She knows._

His breath caught in his throat, but he managed to retain his composure. He pretended to mull over the matter for a minute before smiling sadly at Momoi. “You know him better than I do, Momocchi… you’re his best friend.”

Their eyes met, and despite everything, Kise was suddenly struck by the sorrow he saw in the other’s eyes. No, they seemed to tell him, Aomine was _not_ her best friend… not anymore.

The pair fell silent. Kise suddenly felt very cold. He had never met an instance where Momoi had been mistaken, and if she was so certain that Aomine was the killer… then who was he to tell her she was wrong?

_“G-God, I love you, Kise.”_

But she _was_ wrong. It was absurd to consider that Aomine Daiki would kill Kuroko Tetsuya – the two had been attached at the hip, for crying out loud. To think that Momoi, his best friend, was unable to realize this fact infuriated him for reasons he could not quite grasp.

His eyes lingered over the watermark on her file, again, and chewed on his lip. Knowing Akashi, the only reason Momoi was here under her name was to interrogate him and hope to find a bit more information about Aomine – enough to convict him.

 _‘The easy target, I suppose…’_ He wondered whether that would be applicable to Aomine in this scenario.

“You’re working for Akashicchi?” Kise said offhandedly, just so that there would be something to talk about. “When did that happen?”

Momoi shrugged. “I’m not done with college yet but Akashicchi offered me a job and it had been good money, so…” here, she looked a bit uncomfortable, and cleared her throat before continuing, “besides, it’s Akashicchi, and you know how hard it is to say no to him when he wants to get something done.”

What Kise said next was quite possibly one of the biggest mistakes of his life. In hindsight, he would look back on the conversation and pray to go back in time just so that he could delete the occurrence from his memory. If he had been thinking straight, he might have been able to control himself, but the day had been long and rough on him, and perhaps he hadn’t been feeling as okay as he would have been otherwise. Whatever the case, Kise was already simmering with emotions, and the emotion that was incited in him next was the straw that broke the camel’s back; anger.

“How could you do this to him, Momocchi?” He cried out incredulously, pursing his lips petulantly as he did so.

“Excuse me?” Momoi asked in shock, turning her gaze toward Kise, who in turn met her gaze evenly with a harsh, unrelenting scowl.

“How could you hurt Aominecchi like this? I thought you were his best friend!”

“I… This…” Momoi stammered in disbelief, eyes wide as she regarded the angry blonde, “It… I didn’t want it to turn out this way!”

“Oh? You didn’t? I find that really hard to believe, you know?” Kise’s voice shook with fury, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he rose from the sofa (anything to get away from her). “Aominecchi’s innocent, and you _know_ that, Momocchi!”

“No, Ki-chan,” she shot back heatedly, recovering from her shock and rising from the sofa herself, “I _don’t_ know! All I know is that Akashicchi has evidence that he killed”—

“Evidence? _What_ evidence?” He spat back furiously, knowing that it must be something Akashi fabricated. “Aominecchi _can’t_ have killed Kurokocchi, he was with _me_ the entire night!”

Momoi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?” She whispered back. “Wait, that can’t… what?”

“Yeah!” He glared at her, positively quivering with fury. “Yeah, he was with me, and we had sex the whole fucking night, Momocchi, it can’t have been him.”

The suspicion fell from her features visibly, only to be replaced by confusion. “B-B-But Akashicchi told me…”

Kise shook his head fiercely, but his voice wavered. “No, Momocchi, I’m telling you, he was with _me_!”

Then, quite suddenly, the confusion disappeared from her face, and her eyes widened in realization. “Oh my god.” She spoke in an aghast whisper, backing away from Kise. With every step she took, he felt the anger seep out of him, only to be replaced with a cool chill that left goosebumps on his skin.

“Oh, Ki-chan,” her eyes were brimming with tears now, “you _love_ him, don’t you?”

Kise’s eyes widened. A thousand voices swam around his consciousness, each of them screaming questions at him, none of which he could manage to answer.

_“G-God, Kise, I love you.”_

_“I-I have to go, Aominecchi…”_

And then it was Momoi’s voice reverberating through his brain, sounding louder than any of the whispers.

 _“You_ love _him, don’t you?”_

“No,” he found himself whispering, “No, I don’t.” He didn’t know it but his hands were pressed to his forehead, trying to get the echo of Momoi’s voice out of his head. He didn’t love Aomine. He _couldn’t_ love Aomine.

“I…” Momoi’s eyes widened, and she took a step closer, looking extremely worried, “Ki-chan, are you okay?”

Kise lifted his gaze to meet hers, and the image she saw made her stop in her tracks. His hair was in a disarray, his eyes were out-of-focus as if he wasn’t really seeing her, and his expression – _oh_ , his expression – completely broke her. This sad, broken person was such a different character than the dynamic blonde she had been so close a friend to.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered one last time, but seeing as the blonde hadn’t seemed to hear her, she turned around and left without another word. The door clicked shut behind her as she went, but Kise paid it no heed.

Later, he would not recall retrieving his cellphone from his old pair of jeans. He would not recall dialing the number, he would not recall the anxious wait he endured while the phone on the other end of the line rang a few times. But when the person he was seeking finally picked up the phone, the word he spoke burnt itself into his brain; a melody that would resonate in his brain for the rest of his life.

“Kise?”

That was it, just one word – his own name; the utterance of something that was ostensibly very mundane, but he knew he would remember it for as long as he lived. Because at that moment, when Aomine picked up the phone and spoke, all his doubts vanished. His mind cleared, and suddenly he knew.

Kise Ryouta loved Aomine Daiki.

This, he knew for certain.

“Aominecchi.” He murmured back hoarsely. “Hi… can I come see you?”

Aomine was silent for just a beat as he analyzed the urgency in Kise’s voice. “What’s wrong?” He demanded, suddenly anxious. “Did somebody hurt you?”

 _You. You hurt me._ Kise thought, but did not voice. Rather, he protested. “N-No, no, I just…” he took a deep, calming breath before continuing in a small voice, “I really need a friend, right now, Aominecchi.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Kise’s eyes widened in surprise – albeit pleasantly, especially because he had accepted his invitation so easily. “W-Wait, you don’t even know where I live”—

“Don’t be stupid. Give me five minutes.” And that was the end of that. Kise didn’t have a moment to protest before the other hung up, and he suddenly felt very weak at the knees. He loved Aomine. He, Kise Ryouta, _loved_ Aomine Daiki.

Shaking, he took a seat on the sofa and waited for the knock to come. He didn’t really know what he was going to do when it did, but he decided he would cross that bridge when he came to it. As it was, time seemed to pass slowly, and what felt like eons had passed before finally, a cautious knock clattered on the wooden door, followed by an urgent voice.

“Kise, open up.”

His hands were on the doorknob, and the door had been wrenched open before Aomine had finished speaking. For a second they just stared at each other, Aomine at Kise, Kise at Aomine, and they really, truly, _honestly_ took each other in.

To Kise, it was as if he was seeing the sun for the first time.

To Aomine, he relished the sight as if he might not see it again tomorrow.

They didn’t know who reached out first, but before they knew it the door had been closed shut behind Aomine and they were entangled in a deep embrace. Kise buried his nose in the crook of Aomine’s neck and inhaled his deep, welcoming, musky scent, really and truly appreciating it for the first time.

At that instant, everything seemed as if it was going to be okay. He, Kise, was going to be okay. Aomine was going to be okay. They were both going to be happy.

And then, inevitably, reality crashed upon them both.

_‘I didn’t want to do it, Tetsu. I had no choice. But it was the only way.’_

Kise pulled away quite abruptly, and Aomine was startled by this sudden movement. He was surprised further when Kise cupped his cheeks and forced him to hold his gaze steady; that is, to stare right into the honey brown depths of his eyes.

Kise took in the navy blue depths that circled Aomine’s dilated pupils, and he took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. If Aomine was lying, he would know. If Aomine was lying, then he had to be ready for whatever would come next.

“Did you do it, Aominecchi?” He whispered shakily, voice hoarse from his earlier sobs. “Did you kill Kurokocchi?”

Aomine’s eyes widened, but he held his gaze straight. “I didn’t, Kise.” He spoke quietly and gently. “I promise, I didn’t.”

But that still wasn’t enough for him. “Swear it to me, Aominecchi. Swear it on basketball.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment, despite the severity of the situation, and despite everything that was going on, Aomine smiled wolfishly. Yet, it was without a trace of irony or sarcasm that he responded, with one hundred percent sincerity and his desire to make certain that Kise understood it. “I swear, Kise. I swear it on basketball.”

And for whatever reason, Kise believed him.

He exhaled in relief, inching his face infinitesimally closer. He closed his eyes and relaxed, breathing in to take the refreshing scent of Aomine’s skin again. “Thank god,” he murmured, eyes brimming with happy tears, “thank _fucking_ god.”

Aomine’s fingers were on his cheek, gently brushing away a crystalline teardrop. His dark voice was husky and warm on his flushed skin. “What the hell’s this about, anyway?”

Kise opened his eyes, for once, feeling a sense of long-awaited peace. “It doesn’t matter.” He murmured, risking a small smile as he met Aomine’s eyes again. “So long as you’re telling the truth, it doesn’t matter.”

Aomine cupped his cheek, and Kise leaned into his hand, relishing the warmth. He searched the familiar lines of Aomine’s face, the dips and curves he had daydreamed about so, and couldn’t help but feel that revitalizing sense of relief, over and over again. For a long time, they stood still, Aomine’s arm wounding around his waist and pulling them together as his thumb caressed the other’s cheek gently.

Kise’s smile extended, and Aomine mirrored him, the latter’s lips edging up to form a smirk. Kise’s grip on Aomine’s face tightened infinitesimally, their eyes met, and finally, _(finally,_ thought Aomine) Kise leaned in to press his lips on Aomine’s softly.

* * *

 

They fell onto Kise’s bed together, one atop the other. Aomine’s jacket had been discarded somewhere on the floor and Kise was missing his shirt as he straddled Aomine, eagerly leaning down to press more hungry kisses onto the other’s neck. He nipped and sucked randomly on the other’s tanned, toned neck, always following these rough movements with gentle kisses. Aomine relished this contact gratefully, and when Kise’s lips separated for him to exhale a cool wisp of breath onto his flushed neck, he shivered and growled.

The deep, dark sound vibrated down Kise’s spine, reaching his lower back, and he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Pressing one last kiss onto Aomine’s neck, he straightened up slightly just to cup Aomine’s cheeks and press their lips together once more. They kissed hungrily, deliciously, for a long, long time, in the manner of a couple of men deprived from water for years. At length, they pulled apart and gazed into each other’s eyes.

Without thinking, Kise said it.

“I love you, Aominecchi.”

At that instant, a thousand fleeting emotions crossed Aomine’s face, too quickly for the other to register properly. Aomine lifted himself on his elbows to stare at the blonde in incredulous disbelief, because this _had_ to be a dream, a fantasy. Never in a million years had he imagined it happening, because it had always seemed so distant and farfetched a conclusion. Every time Kise had shown any signs of reciprocating his feelings, something had seemed to go terribly wrong.

For a second, he feared that the ceiling might give loose and crash atop their heads.

If it did, he would have no regrets.

Because this long-awaited day had finally dawned.

When the plaster above their heads remained intact, Aomine took a deep, shuddering breath, then two. He sat up properly, until Kise was sitting on his lap, looking astonishingly like an Adonis as he regarded the surprise on Aomine’s face with a foxy smile. There were no more secrets in Kise’s eyes, no more fear.

“I love you too… Kise.”

This time when Aomine leaned in, Kise did not hesitate.

* * *

 

Later that night, Aomine lay awake next to Kise, staring at the numbers fluctuate on the digital clock on the blonde’s bedside table. Outside, the sky was dark, but Tokyo city was still very much wide awake and so was Aomine. The pair had been cuddling when Kise had drifted off to sleep, but something was certainly haunting Aomine, as he had turned his back on the blonde and was staring at the clock so intently that one might expect it to explode any second.

Quite suddenly, no sooner than the clock read midnight, a ringing sound filled the room. Aomine had obviously been expecting this, as he at once, stark naked, climbed out of bed in search of his jeans. He located them quickly and retrieved his cellphone, answering it fast before Kise was stirred from his sleep.

“It’s me, hmm?” Imayoshi spoke from the other end of the line, a sly edge to his voice. “What’d you say we do, hmm, _boss_?”

Aomine turned back to glance at Kise’s sleeping form once more. “I have Kise with me,” he murmured silently into the receiver, “you can go ahead and commence the plan.”

“Alright, _boss._ It’s your call.”

“Do it, Imayoshi.”

“Right, right, I am, stop yapping, hmm?”

The other end of the line went silent. Aomine took a deep breath, but remained resolute as he turned off the cellphone and returned back to bed. Just before he climbed in, he gave the sleeping blonde a long, sorrowful look.

“I’m so sorry, Kise, but there’s no other way.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about cutting the steamy part short :))) I REALIZED THIS STORY WAS ONLY M-RATED, and I'm not sure whether I can include explicit things in this, and if so, to what extent? If somebody could explain that to me, please, I would be very grateful! ^~^ Also, if I can't include steaminess, would you guys mind very much if I bump the rating up to E? 
> 
> Thank you again, for reading! Reviews are AoKise fluff! 
> 
> PS. I think I promised somebody that Kagami would be appearing in this chapter? I'm so sorry, he didn't make it yet, but you can expect him soon!


	6. For Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you guys are wonderful, and I am AWFUL. I have my edexcels this June, and schoolwork has been absolutely overbearing, I am so sorry. It may be a while before I manage to publish a chapter again, but I'll try my very, very best! If it's any comfort, there are only two chapters left before this fic comes to an end, so hopefully you guys won't have to wait TOO long. 
> 
> Also, I didn't reread this chapter.
> 
> At all. 
> 
> Please forgive me if there are some serious issues or if anything sounds weird.
> 
> I hope you guys like it! Thanks again to the reviewers, Imogen, Lonely_Jellyfish, Ara ara, Lizzie, shmyng, Miss Arcadian and Amy! You guys are awesome, and I love you. Thank you for all the support.

**明日** **へ**

**_For Tomorrow_ **

Kise wrenched the phone away from his ear, eyes wide and disbelieving. For a long time he stood still, repeating the words of the conversation in his brain over and over again.

“No!” He shrieked, and with a sharp, abrupt movement, flung his arm forward with all the strength he could muster; the cellphone that had been in his hands hit the far wall with an almighty crash, shattering in a million pieces onto the floor.

* * *

 

Aomine lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. An eternal day prior, he had been lying in a similar bed, with an angel in his arms and the future (even if momentarily) obscure, but relatively bright. Now, he lay flat on his limbs, waiting for the devil to take him to its lair.

And yet, if he could relive the day again, there was not a single thing he would change about it.

He took a deep breath, then two.

Everything he had been through up until now… that had been nothing.

This.

This was when things _really_ got bad.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and waited. While he did, he thought of a certain person; of blonde tresses and creamy skin; of a happy laugh and twinkling, mischievous eyes; of bantering retorts and sly remarks. While his demons circled around him, cackling and counting down the seconds to his demise, Aomine found it quite easy to ignore them and think of someone else instead.

“Kise,” he whispered to himself and then smiled slightly.

The demons laughed; an ugly, blaring sound. When they sneered at him, lights flashed and reflected off Aomine’s window, illuminating the room in an array of bright colors.

“I love you, Kise.”

The laughing intensified. He closed his eyes, and let the lights and the noise fade to black.

* * *

 

_(An Eternal Day Prior)_

There were good days, and there way bad days. In the grand scheme of things, there were irrelevant days, and then there were days that could decide one’s fate. The scale could be cut down to hours, minutes, and even seconds, but the story was the same. Good seconds, bad seconds; irrelevant seconds, and seconds that could decide one’s fate.

There were days that went by like seconds, and seconds that seemed to last days. In the grand scheme of things, the seconds that decided one’s fate seemed to last days, and the days that were irrelevant went by like seconds. It just so happened that the morning after Kise Ryouta had slept with Aomine Daiki a second time had dawned as the rare exception to the case; a day that went by like a second, and yet decided several people’s fate.

In the grand scheme of things, this particular day was the culminating point.

Kise opened his eyes, feeling extraordinarily content. It couldn’t have been long after dawn, as the sky outside was still relatively dim, but Kise felt as if he must have slept for years. Thinking back on it, he actually didn’t think he’d had such a good night’s sleep in years. He supposed there were two factors at play that ensured him this rare treasure.

The first being that he’d had no nightmares. In three entire years, a night without nightmares was a first for Kise Ryouta.

The second being the strong, sturdy arm that was currently wrapped around his bare waist, and the unfamiliar, but not unwelcoming, source of warmth radiating on his back. Kise shifted his position slightly, and almost immediately the voice behind him grunted sleepily.

“Morning.” _Dang,_ his husky morning voice was even better in person. Kise relished the throatiness in the other’s voice and smiled, angling his head back to kiss Aomine on the lips softly. The other was startled by the intimacy of the act, and didn’t respond at once, but was quick to ease into the kiss. Kise budged until he was facing Aomine, all the while moving his lips in a soft, easy rhythm that burned a slow fire in his lower abdomen. He smiled to himself; one would have thought they would have burnt the fire out what with their relentless _activities_ from the day prior.

At length, Aomine pulled away and granted him in a wolfish smile, his gleaming navy eyes half-closed from sleep. Kise smiled back, inching closer until their noses were brushing.

“Good morning, Aominecchi.” He chirped back, and reveled in the novelty of being finally allowed to speak those words.

At once, Aomine made a face, and his voice was teasing when he spoke. “God, Kise, your breath smells like ass.”

“Mm, you would know, wouldn’t you?” He shot back without missing a beat, grinning mischievously as he wound his arms around the tanned man.

Aomine’s hands, which were quite noticeably on Kise’s butt, squeezed slightly but not gently, warranting a blush and a delectable pout from the other. Aomine smirked at this, kissing the blonde on the nose before moving his lips to his ear, breathing out a husky whisper.

“Of course I would,” his breath was cool and warm at the same time and felt like _sin_ on his sensitive ear, “it’s what I had for dinner last night, remember?”

This earned a delighted laugh from Kise, and the blonde smacked Aomine on the arm playfully as he rolled over until the other was underneath him. The tip of his tongue peeked out to sensually lick his upper lip as he purposefully looked right into Aomine’s eyes. Aomine’s smirk stretched over his face and he regarded Kise with a happy, anticipating gleam in his eyes; one which was mirrored almost precisely in the other’s honey orbs.

“How about having it for breakfast as well?”

Aomine’s hands, slow and teasing, moving up Kise’s bare backside, coming up to trace gentle patterns on his back that elicited a soft, pleased gasp.

“Mm, I’m considering it.” Kise lowered his head to alternate gentle bites and rough kisses on the plane of Aomine’s neck, and the tanned man exhaled in bliss. “Only – ah – I don’t think there’s any left from last night.”

Kise laughed again happily, retracting his head in order to kiss Aomine on the lips again. “Aah,” he smiled in satisfaction afterward, meeting Aomine’s blue eyes evenly. More seriously, he asked a bit tentatively, “Are we sort of together now?”

Aomine rolled his eyes, but smirked. “Is the label necessary?”

“It _is_.”

“Is not. You’re just pushy.”

“Aominecchi!” Kise pouted petulantly, and the other grinned in delight at the pretty sight. He almost bit his lip in trying to refrain from saying the obvious _‘Stop being so mean!’_ but opted to settle the matter by elongating his frown and settling in the crook of Aomine’s neck instead. For a long time, the pair was contentedly silent; one of Aomine’s hands gingerly traced its way up Kise’s back to nestle in the soft blond tresses of his hair.

“Hey,” Aomine’s dark voice cut through the din softly, and Kise lifted his head from the warm cradle of the former’s neck to receive yet another wave of compassion when he met with his navy eyes. He raised an eyebrow in askance, and Aomine’s forehead creased with lines of worry.

“Hey,” he continued tentatively, “You gonna tell me what yesterday was all about?”

Kise pondered the question for a bit. Definitely, things were extremely far from being _okay_ , and the previous day’s hurried vow had not actually done anything to rectify the problem at hand. It was obvious to him that Akashi was trying to convict— _pin the murder,_ he meant, on Aomine, and it was certain that there was nothing he could do to deviate the red-headed tyrant from his path. Alright, Aomine’s behavior was slightly dodgy and there were many things he couldn’t understand, but the essence of the truth was that Kise was very much broken and nobody, not one of them, had reached out to him, whereas Aomine had always been – and currently was, for that matter – more than welcoming when offering him the support he needed. The reality of it was that Aomine was the only one who stayed, even though it was perhaps slightly dysfunctional of him to base his perceptions purely on that fact.

And maybe, just maybe, Kise was willing to take the risk.

He opened his mouth to speak, to clarify all his doubts and relieve himself of all his queries, but his words died at the base of his throat open meeting with Aomine’s eyes. There were so many things hidden in those stormy orbs, love and compassion but also layers upon layers of secrets. While it was true, without a doubt, that Aomine loved Kise with the entirety of his being, it was also true that Aomine seemed to be mostly aware of his actions concerning the fateful night, whereas Kise’s mind was kept conveniently in the dark. Something was amiss, but—God, he didn’t want to think about that right then.

“I was just…” he started lamely, lowering his gaze onto the plane of Aomine’s tanned chest, observing the lines he had so delicately explored with his tongue the night before, “… scared.”

“Scared?” Aomine echoed, his voice as deep and reverberating as the night itself, “Huh. You gonna tell me why?”

Kise considered it, but then settled comfortably onto the hard muscles of Aomine’s chest, pressing his ear so that he could hear the other’s heartbeats and my, was it a magical sound. The calm, gentle music of it soothed his agitated nerves, and quite suddenly he didn’t want to do anything else but lay there in the ethereal comfort of the other’s arms until the end of eternity.

“I don’t feel like talking about it right now.” He murmured truthfully, and Aomine grunted in response, using the tip of his nails to scrape gentle patterns on Kise’s nape. The gesture was oddly comforting and _Kami,_ felt as good as hell. Resonating shivers echoed up and down his back from the tips of Aomine’s fingers that felt so good that, Kise was sure, if he was a cat he would have been purring.

“Oh my god, Aominecchi, are you doing that on purpose? That feels like _heaven_.” His voice was somewhat muffled from the way his cheek was so inconveniently sandwiched between Aomine and the rest of his face but so enchanted that it managed to get the message across all the same.

“Mm, you don’t say.” Aomine intoned in response, but skillfully maneuvered his nails up Kise’s neck in a way that elicited a blissful moan from the other.

“Aah, _Aominecchi,_ that was amazing! Do it again.” He almost pleaded, earning an amused chuckle from the other.

“Your neck’s got way too many sweet spots for your own good, Kise.” He admonished gruffly, but obliged to Kise’s beseech, once again earning a pleasant yelp from the blonde writhing in his arms.

“ _Aaaaaaah,_ Aominecchi!”

Aomine barked out a laugh this time, and Kise joined him, unable to control himself. “S-Stop teasing me!” He sputtered between giggles, blushing furiously. “I’m serious, it just feels that good, okay? H- _Hey,_ don’t laugh at me like that Aominecchi, I know for a fact that you’ve got some pretty strange sweet spots too, okay?”

“Oh, yeah?” Aomine shot back competitively, smirking. “Really, you think so?” This he said while tracing a line up Kise’s nape that made him melt yet again, in turn causing Aomine to erupt in a fit of chuckles.

“A- _Aominecchi!_ Stop being so mean!” He pouted at the other’s mirth stubbornly, but then his expression took a sharp turn from petulant to mischievous. If Aomine hadn’t been so enamored by the amusing task of pleasing Kise, he might have had time to prepare for the onslaught that was going to befall him.

Grinning cheekily, Kise dug his nails into the sides of Aomine’s torso and began tickling him so ferociously that he choked mid-laugh and began writhing helplessly under the blonde’s teasing ministrations. This time, Kise was the one laughing, and Aomine glared at him in defeat after failingly trying to free himself from the blonde’s skilled fingers.

Giggling contentedly at Aomine’s sour expression, he removed his fingers from the poor navy-haired boy’s torso, but his triumph barely lasted a second before Aomine jolted from the bed and dove straight at him with his hands outstretched. Kise squealed in half-delight, half-fear as the pair toppled back on the mattress and positively _shrieked_ as Aomine began tickling him so mercilessly that he knew for certain he was doomed. This was it, this was how he was going to die, Kise said to himself over and over again as he choked out screams of mirth that squeezed out happy tears from the corners of his eyes.

Finally, after the other was well-spent and exhausted, Aomine removed his fingers and observed the battlefield triumphantly. He smirked at the panting, still-giggling blonde and leaned down to press a kiss onto his forehead.

“That’ll teach you to mess with me, you prissy blonde.”

“P… Prissy b… _blonde_?” Kise gasped out in outrage even in the midst of his recovery, but it was with a happy grin that he regarded Aomine next.

“What?” Aomine asked maliciously, and raised his hands again. “Ready for round two?”

Amidst shrieks and laughter, the pair toppled over onto the mattress again, but their mighty war was cut short when a laughing Kise, who finally managed to bestride Aomine in a halfway victory, decided to lean down and kiss the latter’s lips in an ardent kiss. They disappeared beneath the cover of the sheets, and didn’t emerge for a long, long time.

Sometimes, Kise thought, when there were no real victories, pretending worked just fine.

* * *

 

It had been a while since he last saw Takao, and Midorima had almost begun to worry.  But then it seemed Fate itself had decided to deliver the black-haired boy to his doorstep. Still clad in his filthy hoodie, Takao had grinned and raised a paper bag enigmatically before inviting himself inside as soon as Midorima had opened the door to his apartment. The hoodie was off in a second and thrown over his impeccable dinner/study table, emanating a strong (yet undoubtedly agreeable) odor from its seams. Sometimes Midorima wondered if Takao did these things purely to see him scowl, as it seemed to delight him so to see his insatiable agitation.

“Groceries.” He’d had said smugly, eyeing Midorima’s frown happily. “As thanks for healing me, Doctor-chan.”

Midorima’s eye had twitched, but he had said nothing.

Takao had sat quite still as Midorima observed his healing wound, and dressed his shoulder with new bandages. His black shirt was still as tight and as smelly as ever, and Midorima had been further curious, and somewhat irked, as to why Takao had involved himself in such a dangerous predicament. But the curve to Takao’s lips had told him that he knew Midorima was positively _quivering_ with queries, and was thus why the stubborn moss-head had remained predictably quiet throughout the ensuing minutes.

Since lunch time had rolled around (and since Takao was admittedly – or not-admittedly, in his case – a far better cook than he was), they had decided to make something to eat with the groceries that Takao had so conveniently brought. Hence was why Midorima found himself sourly and wordlessly dicing carrots in an orderly manner while the other prodded at a slab of meat sizzling deliciously on the stove, actually having the audacity to _hum._

Again, Midorima offered nothing aside from a muted huff and a twitch of the lips. Takao cast his hazel eyes at him knowingly and smirked, shaking his head and prodding gingerly at the meat. Midorima nearly chopped off a finger, face reddening in outraged embarrassment.

Their fingers brushed as Midorima transferred the chopped vegetables to Takao’s pan under the latter’s instruction. He ignored the volt of electricity that passed through his fingertips and up his spine at the contact, deepening his scowl instinctively.

To his dismay, Takao continued his smug humming all throughout their rushed meal, and yet Midorima could not seem to reprimand him with more than a grumpy glare. In fact, it was not until they finally cleared out the table and settled down on his sofa with a half-filled drink in each of their hands, and Takao decided it would be funny to playfully twirl a strand of Midorima’s hair between his fingertips did the latter actually _snap._

“May I ask,” he started in faux calm, nostrils flaring as he grabbed Takao’s wrist and forced it away from his hair (strangely agreeable as it felt), “why you are being more insufferable than usual?”

“That’s it, Shin-chan?” The other teased, entwining their fingers together. “You’re not even going to get me dinner?”

“W-What?” Midorima spluttered and wrenched his hand back, inevitably going crimson. “ _What?_ I—I… _Takao!_ ”

Takao grinned cheekily, but his eyes were dead serious. “Why aren’t you asking me what you want to ask, Shin-chan? You just let me saunter in here every time even though you don’t even ask for a sliver of an explanation”—

“I have _asked_ you for an explanation, imbecile, but all you have done is lie, nanodayo!”

Takao actually placed his glass on the tabletop and crossed his arms over his chest. Midorima followed suit, regarding him coldly. Takao had his eyebrows raised in interest now; there were green in his hazel eyes. “Why are you so curious, Shin-chan? I thought you didn’t care about me. Didn’t you make that clear to me after that day Kuroko died?”

Midorima’s eyes flashed angrily, but then transcended back to icy disregard in a hot second. How dare Takao mention the incident so blatantly, so simply? Perhaps he was too foolish to understand the severity of the consequences of the day, or perhaps he was just too carefree for his own good.

Midorima was done trying to put up with him.

“Get out of my house, Takao.”

Whatever Midorima expected in response was lost in his mind when Takao suddenly grabbed his arm and flipped him around (a commendable feat given his size and strength) until they were facing each other on the sofa. The green-haired man was stunned to see Takao’s expression, for it had suddenly shattered, and quite abruptly his hazel eyes had filled up with tears.

When he spoke, his voice was a shaky whisper.

“Make me.”

The witty retort his brain formulated died on his tongue, and he could do nothing but stare in unabated shock, for Takao Kazunari – resident optimist and jokester – was in actual, legitimate _tears._

He might have taken a picture if the sight hadn’t left him completely and utterly devastated.

“Takao.” He found himself intoning in shock. “Takao, are you crying?”

Takao’s grip on his arm tightened and his lips shook precariously. He took a deep breath, then two, and before Midorima realized what was happening, he had instinctively scooped the other up in his arms. By the time he had tightened his hold protectively, Takao had begun to cry a waterfall’s worth of tears into the front of his shirt. In any other situation, he would have spluttered, and he would have been almost infuriated with embarrassment. But this was Takao, and Takao was _crying._ He had no time to even _think_ about being embarrassed, for it was fury that rose within him next; an inexplicable anger at whoever had driven such a cheerful soul to tears.

“Tell me who did this to you, nanodayo.” He demanded evenly, not knowing how to be gentle.

“Fuck, Shin-chan,” the other sobbed, his voice muffled, “are you _blind?_ ”

“ _What?”_

Here, Takao pulled back slightly, so that he could shoot Midorima an incredulous look; even amidst his inconsolable tears, Midorima had to accept that he looked extremely appealing

“I’m doing all of this for _you,_ you stupid, thick-headed, emotionally inept _carrot_! I’m doing this because Aomine told me the Kaijo guys were working together to pin it on _you_!”

Midorima’s face suddenly went very cold. “Pin the murder? On me?” He considered it for a beat, but before anything had really settled in, he scowled at Takao. “Then why on Earth didn’t you _tell_ me?”

Takao unwound himself from Midorima and settled back down on the sofa; his eyes were red and he was staring petulantly down at his lap. “What, so that you could mess it up and get yourself caught? No way.”

Midorima scoffed at this. “I’m smarter than you, Takao. What on earth were you thinking? We could have resolved this much easier”—

“I wanted to protect you.”

Takao spoke in a hurry, almost as if he hadn’t wanted to say it, but for some incontrovertible reason couldn’t keep it to himself. Midorima’s speech died out again, and he lifted his eyes to Takao in what seemed almost like alarm.

“I wanted to protect you, Shin-chan,” he continued softly, “You’re always so against things like this, and I didn’t want to get you involved and…”

_What an idiot._

“Takao.” Midorima interrupted darkly. “Look at me.”

The other shook his head frantically, purposefully turning his head the other way. “Look, Shin-chan, I already know what you’re going to say. Save it. I was only trying to help…” His words got more and more desperate as he spoke, and he sounded as if he was on the verge of tears again.

“Takao.” Midorima said again, this time softly, and the other did stop talking. What Midorima said next made his eyes widen in shock, and even the resident gloom-and-doom pessimist himself couldn’t believe himself.

“Please.”

Takao looked at him.

“Kiss me, fool.”

And he did.

* * *

 

“We should probably get out of bed, Aominecchi.” Kise murmured contentedly into Aomine’s chest almost two hours later, unable to stop smiling. Aomine lay on his back with an arm around Kise, snuggling him into his side and wearing a similar grin.

“Yeah,” he grunted, “but d’you wanna?”

“Nope.” Kise chirped happily and nestled further into the crook of his arm. “Not right now, anyway. But I _would_ like to do something sometime later today. You’ll like it, too, Aominecchi.”

“Yeah?” He asked, his grin stretching over his tanned face. “What is it, then?”

Kise smiled happily. “Let’s go play basketball.”

Aomine considered the thought for a fraction of a second, shocked, as none of them had even so much had _mentioned_ the word after the incident, and suddenly he was grinning wider than he probably had in three whole years.

Basketball.

With Kise.

Perfect.

* * *

 

“Oh yes,” Koganei said in assent while his fellow bartender Mitobe stood next to him, nodding vigorously as he cleaned a champagne glass with a spotless rag, “Aomine-san has come here many times. He’s one of our usual customers, wouldn’t you say, Mitobe?”

Mitobe wriggled his eyebrows in agreement, and the pink-haired girl he was talking to nodded slowly, a bit bewildered.

“Really.” Momoi murmured, lost in deep thought and not sounding very surprised. Her brain seemed to be working overtime, but if either of the two had known Momoi even slightly more than an acquaintance, the jaded glassiness in her unfazed eyes would have shocked them. “All the time? Say, daily? Even on work days?”

Koganei frowned. “Work days? He’s here in the _afternoon,_ Momoi-san.” Next to him, Mitobe shook his head in disappointment, as if Aomine coming into the bar in the afternoon was a personal insult on his mother or something of the sort, and Koganei glanced at the pink-haired girl curiously. “How is this relevant to your case, though?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Momoi shrugged in a non-committal manner, impatiently scribbling on her clipboard. “Maybe I’m just grasping for straws, who knows. Does he have friends with him when he does as you mentioned?”

“Er, recently, he’s been hanging around Kise-san, like you asked before…” Koganei frowned. “He comes here a lot with his old teammates, though. They always sit together and talk very seriously and send me away if I go to take orders, which I found very rude of them, really…”

This time, Momoi raised her eyebrows and actually placed her clipboard down atop the bar in surprise. “ _Really_ , now?” She voiced interestedly, leaning forward to scrutinize Koganei; to make sure he spoke nothing but the truth. “That’s very interesting, Koganei-san… if possible, can I meet with your manager?”

At once, Koganei blanched. “H-Hey, Momoi-san, oh my god, did I do something wrong? I can fix that! I’m so sorry, please don’t call the manager”—

“Oh, no, no, no!” Momoi said in hurried bewilderment, afraid of hurting the boy and sounding a lot like her usual self. “No, no, Koganei-san, this has nothing to do with you. You’ve been very kind and helpful. I just need to have a word with the owner about the case, that’s all.”

The brunette relaxed visibly, and next to him, even Mitobe’s stiff shoulders loosened. “Oh.” He said. “He’s in the back right now, checking through our supplies. Would you like me to take me to him?”

Momoi stood up and smiled sweetly at Koganei. “That would be very kind of you, Koganei-san! Thank you so much for your trouble…”

Justice, Momoi thought, was cruel and punishing. But at least it was understandable, and at least it was analytical and ostensibly better than most facets of society. Momoi Satsuki had lost, loved, and been victim to a lot of anguish.

She, like everybody involved in this unfortunate tragedy, just wanted a way to get rid of the pain she felt whenever Kuroko Tetsuya’s name was mentioned.

* * *

 

 ( _Late afternoon_ )

“…I’ve got some security tapes, Akashicchi,” Momoi spoke over the other end of the line later that day, “and miraculously, they even have voice records. It’s like they all _want_ to be caught.”

Akashi wore a small smile that did not quite reach his eyes as he listened to her talk. He stood by the window of his office again, listening to his detective relay information from her latest scouting trip. The sky was starkly different from the day before, heavy and burrowed with thunderous, rolling clouds. The air tasted vaguely of rain. It was as if the sky itself was a signal of the doom about to impend upon them all.

“Commendable work, Satsuki.” Akashi said in a calm voice, still observing the overcast sky appraisingly. “You may have the day for yourself. I feel as if we have enough evidence, now.”

Momoi said a few words of polite farewell, and then the line went dead. Akashi lowered the phone from his ear and paced a few steps until he stood in the middle of his window, which loomed from a high skyscraper over midtown Tokyo that gave a fantastic view of the city; a delight to his sharp eyes. He stood this way for a long time, lost in his quiet ponderings.

It seemed that he was going to have to give a quick call to an old friend, soon.

_Shintaro, your time has come. Will you prove loyal to me, once again, or will you pay the consequences?_

Akashi smiled. Everything would be all over, soon.

* * *

 

Happiness worked miracles when it came to a person’s health, and Kise Ryouta did indeed look like a living miracle as he stepped out of the basketball court in a jersey he hadn’t worn in years; cheeks flushed and eyes glowing. He had almost forgotten how good a therapy basketball was, especially when he played against his favorite opponent. He had bidden farewell to Aomine just moments ago (and had earned a gentle peck on the cheek that still left some remnants of a blush on his face), and was undoubtedly in a good mood as he turned the corner to head towards his home. The sky was dark, now; they had unknowingly played together for over three hours, and Kise was feeling very, _very_ content.

Taking a glance at the pattern that had played for him like a broken reel over the past few weeks – the deadly cycle of delight followed by despair – Kise should have run for his life right then and there, and he probably would have done so if he had any common sense.

This time around, though, at least the decline came gradually – and didn’t pick back up for a long, long time.

It started with a familiar, talking wall and the undeniable scent of candies.

Kise had been fairly certain he had been walking on the pavement, but before he knew it he had smacked his forehead straight against a wall that had seemed to pop out of seemingly nowhere. He almost swore, stepping back suddenly and rubbing his hurt forehead woefully.

He should have just begun running without looking back as soon as the wall spoke.

“Nn… Kise-chin… what are you doing slagging around with _him_ …?”

His eyes flew open, traveling upward until they came to meet with a pair of familiar purple orbs; both of which were staring down at him in unrestrained contempt. The threat was further amplified when the giant inserted a pocky stick between his teeth before snapping it symbolically.

“Murasakibaracchi?” He asked in a shocked whisper. “I haven’t seen you in ages, you know? How are you?”

The taller of the two deepened his scowl, this time repeating in a more threatening voice. “I said, Kise-chin, _what_ are you doing with Mine-chin…? He killed Kuro-chin, you know…” This he said as if commenting on the weather.

Kise’s shock at seeing his old teammate wore off rather quickly, and suddenly he found himself glaring at Murasakibara in fury. He hadn’t seen Kise in years, and this is what he attacks him with at first glance? Unbelievable.

“Says who, Murasakibara _cchi_?”

“Says Aka-chin, that’s who…”

Kise rolled his eyes at this, and made to move past Murasakibara roughly, but the purple-haired giant continued before he got the chance.

“You don’t believe me, do you…? Nn… I guess you haven’t heard, then…”

And despite himself, despite everything that had transpired that day, despite the fact that Kise had spent the entire day with Aomine and it had been absolute bliss, there was still a spot of doubt in his heart, and that doubt had rooted itself deeper than he thought, because he stopped in his tracks. When he turned back to face Murasakibara, he was looking at him with pitiful apathy.

“Muro-chin told me… and I’ve seen the proof for myself… how can you look yourself in the mirror, Kise-chin?”

Kise’s heart went very, very cold.

“What do you mean, Murasakibaracchi?” He whispered, all traces of hostility gone from his voice. “What happened?”

“You’re mean, Kise-chin…” his purple eyes were hard and cold, “Kagami couldn’t recover from his depression… He drank himself to death just last week… And you still hang around with Mine-chin? Even after everything he did…?”

_Kagami couldn’t recover from his depression… He drank himself to death just last week…_

What? This…

This had to be some sort of sick joke, right?

“Y-You…” Kise stammered in shock, eyes wide. He was too surprised to register grief. “You’re lying, Murasakibaracchi! A-And even if you weren’t, this has nothing to do with Aominecchi”—

“Do you hear yourself, Kise-chin? Nn… you’re stupider than I thought.” Here, Murasakibara’s eyes flashed angrily. “Kuro-chin was a good person, weird as he was. He didn’t deserve to die… Nn… neither did Kagami… I can’t believe you’re still defending Mine-chin… Open your eyes, Kise-chin, the truth is right there…”

_Open your eyes, Kise-chin…_

_I didn’t do it, Kise._

_In the meantime, Ryouta, be careful about who you trust._

_I didn’t do it, Kise._

_I heard him, Kise-san…_

_You love him, don’t you?_

_The truth is right there…_

_I didn’t do it, Kise._

_I didn’t do it._

“No.” He whispered, unable to focus on the surroundings. Murasakibara must have realized he had gotten through to him, because he gave Kise a gentle pat on the shoulder and walked past him silently.

_I love you, Kise._

_I love you, too, Aominecchi._

_I promise, Kise._

_Swear it, Aominecchi. Swear it on basketball._

_I didn’t do it, Kise._

_The truth is right there…_

_He drank himself to death…_

_I-I’m sorry, Kise-san, but Aomine-san…_

Aomine killed Kuroko.

Aomine _killed_ Kuroko.

He was frozen in his unhappy reverie when he was jolted by the sound of his phone ringing. In a trance, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and received the call before pressing it to his ear.

“H… Hello?” He asked shakily, still in shock.

“Ryouta? I am just calling to relay the news.” Akashi seemed very pleased, but Kise could not discern why. His brain seemed to have stopped working. “Firstly, I need to tell you that your help had been crucial in solving the case, and hence I thank you for that.”

Aomine _killed_ Kuroko.

“Daiki has been arrested for the murder of Kuroko Tetsuya. Have a good night, _Ryouta._ ”

The phone clicked; Akashi seemed to be unbothered by the fact that Kise hadn’t replied to him whatsoever. Perhaps he understood that the blonde would be a raging hurricane of inconsolability.

_Daiki has been arrested for the murder of Kuroko Tetsuya._

Aomine killed Kuroko.

Then, quite suddenly, reality hit him.

Aomine was the murderer.

Kise wrenched the phone away from his ear, eyes wide and disbelieving. For a long time he stood still, repeating the words of the conversation in his brain over and over again.

“No!” He shrieked, and with a sharp, abrupt movement, flung his arm forward with all the strength he could muster; the cellphone that had been in his hands hit the far wall with an almighty crash, shattering in a million pieces onto the floor.

* * *

 

The police were coming, he knew, but there wasn’t anything he could do. They were approaching him right at that moment, blaring their sirens and flashing their multicolored lights.

He could almost hear them right then.

Aomine lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. An eternal day prior, he had been lying in a similar bed, with an angel in his arms and the future (even if momentarily) obscure, but relatively bright. Now, he lay flat on his limbs, waiting for the devil to take him to its lair.

And yet, if he could relive the day again, there was not a single thing he would change about it.

He took a deep breath, then two.

Everything he had been through up until now… that had been nothing.

This.

This was when things _really_ got bad.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and waited. While he did, he thought of a certain person; of blonde tresses and creamy skin; of a happy laugh and twinkling, mischievous eyes; of bantering retorts and sly remarks. While his demons circled around him, cackling and counting down the seconds to his demise, Aomine found it quite easy to ignore them and think of someone else instead.

“Kise,” he whispered to himself and then smiled slightly.

The demons laughed; an ugly, blaring sound. When they sneered at him, lights flashed and reflected off Aomine’s window, illuminating the room in an array of bright colors.

“I love you, Kise.”

The laughing intensified. He closed his eyes, and let the lights and the noise fade to black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was depressing. I suck. Two chapters to go. 
> 
> PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! ♥


	7. Blue Bookmark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My exams are over! Well, for now, at least. This is the second last chapter; the next one won't be as massive, and it definitely won't take me as much time to write as I've taken for this one. I may or may not write an epilogue depending on my mood, but eh, we'll see. Thanks so much to the lovely reviewers (sourinralia, Amy, shmyng, Patty, bestillmyheart and bravepotato), you guys are the best! Lots of love! 
> 
> Also, this chapter was SO exhausting to write. Honestly. Also, I should probably say... I have NO idea how the judicial system works... I know my abysmal research was nowhere near enough for my writing to be accurate... PLEASE DON'T MIND I'M NOT A LAWYER I'M SO SORRY
> 
> Reviews are what gives me life! Please do review! 
> 
> Also, I didn't reread it at all. c: Apologies. Love to Galileo Galilei and Fujimaki-sensei.

**_Blue Bookmark_ **

_青い栞_

* * *

 

After three years, it had seemed that the nation had forgotten about the death of the star basketball player Kuroko Tetsuya. Not a sliver of the name had been heard, and perhaps that was the way Kuroko’s family had wanted it to be, because nobody had complained about not being able to find the culprit.

Things changed quite drastically, though – and quickly.

 _“Three years after the death of Kuroko Tetsuya,”_ the feminine voice of the newscaster droned urgently, “ _the police was seen dragging Aomine Daiki – one of Kuroko Tetsuya’s old teammates – into the police station. The officer in charge had briefly explained that the arrest was relevant to Kuroko’s death, but refused to give more details on the matter…”_

Takao slept in through most of the mornings, so Midorima often spent the early hours of the morning alone.

It was an impromptu decision, but since Midorima had all but refused to let Takao out of his sight after his hasty confession and since the one-room apartment was far too cramped for the both of them (in Midorima’s opinion, anyway), they had found a new place to live in – together.

Presently, the green-haired boy sat in front of the television (with the volume turned down so as to not disturb his partner, who was sleeping in their bedroom) with a mug of warm tea. His eyes were glued to the screen, and his expression was one of complete disbelief.

_Aomine had been the killer, nanodayo… I should have known._

He had suspected it, definitely, but nobody had known for certain. Although he was understandably distraught over the fact that it _had_ indeed been a teammate who had murdered Kuroko, the primary emotion he felt was relief.

His eyes and ears registered the news report, but all his mind could think of was how they were both safe, now. They could live their lives in peace.

 _Takao_ was safe, now.

He sat passively for a few minutes and sipped his tea occasionally, listening to the reporter repeat and emphasize that she did not have any new updates but would try to relay as much information as she could to the public.

He was just about to get up from the sofa to go wash his mug when his phone, which had been lying on the coffee tabletop, began to ring. He eyed the device curiously for a second, especially because it displayed that the caller ID was unknown. Then, he hesitantly shifted the mug to his left hand before reaching down to receive the call.

“Who is this, nanodayo?”

After a short pause, apparently due to something the caller on the other line must have said, Midorima’s eyes widened. His usually neutral expression contorted into one that spelled complete shock, and he probably did not even realize it when the mug slipped from his hands and smashed in a billion pieces on the floor with an almighty crash.

Takao emerged from the room moments later, just as Midorima hung up his phone, sleepily rubbing his eyes and smoothing his bed hair.

“Shin-chan, what’s wrong….?”

The dark-haired man stopped in his tracks upon registering the news report playing on the television. His jaw dropped in shock, and he sank down onto the sofa next to Midorima slowly and wordlessly. This distraction bought Midorima enough time to shake himself free from the sudden onslaught of terror that the phone call had brought him. Still, he must not have properly managed to hide his anguish, he thought, because Takao eyed him curiously a moment later.

_It matters not. He cannot know about this._

_He cannot, nanodayo._

* * *

Aomine had always thought that the ‘one phone-call’ thing was a clichéd joke exploited by TV sitcoms for the humor of it. Yet here he was, presented with a simple line receiver, and asked to make one last phone call before he was escorted to his cell, and he couldn’t find a single thing humorous about the situation.

He didn’t even consider calling his parents. He couldn’t bear the realization that they must be feeling a thousand times more hurt than he, now; society must be shaming their poor parental skills that very second. He briefly thought about calling Momoi. She _was_ his best friend, after all. She had been at one point, anyway, but Aomine understood completely if she didn’t want to talk to him. If he had been in her shoes, he would have acted in a worse manner. In fact, Aomine applauded her patience and civility. He probably would have punched someone’s brains out.

Perhaps it was a sick sadomasochistic urge that drove him to do it, but he couldn’t help himself. Aomine couldn’t just… leave him like this, not without any explanation.

He dialed the number cautiously, wondering what would be waiting for him on the other end of the line.

“H… Hello?” Kise Ryouta’s voice was soft, a bit hoarse, but nonetheless as angelic as ever. Honey and cinnamon, he had always thought, a deadly mixture of sultry and sweet.

“Kise.” He said hesitantly, and he heard Kise take a harsh inhale of breath sharply. For several moments, the conversation was silent.

Finally, Kise spoke.

“What… what do you _want_ from me?”

His voice sounded so broken, so _hurt,_ that Aomine’s eyes were quick to fill up with tears. He had called to explain his side of the story, but he realized now that that was better left for Kise to figure out on his own. Perhaps someday… someday, Kise would understand what happened and why he had done what he did, but that day was not today.

“I just… I just wanted to hear your voice one more time.” He said truthfully, if not a bit timidly.

The line was silent for a while again.

“Why did you lie to me, Aominecchi?” Kise’s voice was but a whisper now, teetering on the precipice between anger and sadness. “Why did you just… build my hopes up if you were going to… you know?” He took a shaky breath and exhaled deeply. “If you were going to… leave me?”  

_I love you, Kise. I couldn’t resist._

“I… I’m sorry, Kise.”

He heard Kise’s breath quiver. The sensation left goosebumps on his skin, and he was suddenly reminded of how welcoming Kise’s breath had been on the skin of his neck. For a long time, the pair stayed in the momentary ceasefire, trying to comprehend the reality of the situation.

“I’m sorry, Kise.” He repeated again, forlornly. On the other end, Kise’s harsh breathing dissolved into tears, and with a final click, the line went dead.

* * *

Back at his apartment, Kise threw his already battered and bruised phone onto the floor, possibly dooming it for good this time. He fell back on his bed, taking deep shuddering breaths and trying to regulate his breathing in between his heavy sobs. He couldn’t breathe, so he wanted to scream. He couldn’t think straight, so he wished he had gone insane instead.

“Why did you _lie_ to me, Aominecchi?” He whispered to himself. “Why would you _do_ that?”

Because it was the _lie_ that had hurt him, not the fact that he had murdered Kuroko. It was horrible of him to think that, utterly and appallingly disgusting at the _least_ , but it was the cold, hard, incontrovertible truth. Something inside him had broken the night they lost Kuroko, and whatever remnant of his sanity had clung on desperately to the fact that no matter what had happened, Aomine Daiki would remain by his side.

Aomine had left him inconsolable, and the last fragment of his rationality had since shattered into a billion pieces.

But the worst part of it all?

He still loved him.

Aomine was a backstabbing, traitorous murderer, but Kise still loved him all the same.

…

Good god, he was _disgusting_.

* * *

“We should go see Kise, senpai.”

Nakamura’s voice was soft and thoughtful over the din of their campus cafeteria. He was right, Kasamatsu thought. Nakamura was the voice of reason among all of them, and he was usually right. The five of them sat at a table by themselves contemplatively, listening to their peers discuss the topic of Kuroko Tetsuya’s murder.

Nonetheless, he shook his head in dissent. “It wouldn’t help, y’know.” He muttered quietly. “He’d want to be alone.”

Even Hayakawa was subdued; he fiddled with his fingers, lost in deep thought. Moriyama pressed a few buttons on his cellphone aimlessly, uncharacteristically lost for words.

After a long time of silence, it was Koboji who spoke.

“I can’t believe it was Aomine. He was the one who tipped us off about the others wanting to pin it on Kise, after all.”

Kasamatsu shrugged. “He was right, though, wasn’t he? The others _did_ try to pin it on him.”

“Yeah, but all the same…”

They lapsed into silence again. None of them spoke of the matter again, and when Moriyama hesitantly begun a conversation about a girl, they all jumped on the idea with faux enthusiasm.

Some things, Kasamatsu thought, were better not to dwell on for too long.

* * *

“Are these the papers?” Akashi asked with a cold smile, mischief playing around on the edge of his voice. “You have complied to my request rather easily, Shintaro.”

Midorima scowled visibly. His voice and eyes were hard and cold; an obvious sign of his fury. “If it had been a request, you would not be seeing me here. You threatened me, nanodayo.” His eyes flashed in incredulity. “I find it atrocious that you have stooped to such a low, _Akashi_.”

Akashi simply extended his unfeeling smile and met his gaze just as coldly and evenly. “I did not threaten you, Shintaro.” Midorima’s eyes narrowed at this, and Akashi continued smoothly. “Is it not my duty as a lawful citizen to bring injustice to light? I do not believe you would disagree that Takao Kazunari had partaken in several unlawful acts.”

Midorima fell silent, but his expression was one of furious spite. He gave the sheaf of papers – medical reports on the relation between guilt and alcohol abuse – to the shorter redhead before turning on his heel and making to exit the office.

Perhaps as a final insult, Akashi asked. “Am I right to assume that I would not be seeing you at the trial?”

Midorima simply glared back at his old best friend before hastening the pace of his departure.

* * *

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry!” Kise said hastily to the grumpy old man he had bumped into on the road, and continued his hurried run uptown, towards a hauntingly familiar skyscraper. He hadn’t been there in ages, but of course he still knew the way.

How could he not? He thought, raising his eyes to the sleek glass and aluminium building, so tall that it was visible even from this distance; the words KISE CORP adorning the highest floor in metallic block letters reflected the light from the sun, and he had to squint to overcome the glare.

He bumped into another man again. “Sorry!” He said, again, but he did not slow down.

This was it.

This was his last chance.

* * *

The woman standing at the counter recognized him quite easily, sending him a gentle smile. “Kise-san, what may I help you with?”

Kise smiled in generous affectation; the action felt foreign to him after wallowing in sorrow for so long. He knew must look awful, so he needed to act the part if he were to keep up his pretense of being the cheerful young model the world knew him as.

“Good morning!” He chirped happily. “I need to see my father. Is he busy?”

“One moment please.” The woman spent a few seconds sifting through some papers on her desk, presumably to take a glance at his father’s schedule. She smiled at him a second later.

“You’re in luck, Kise-san. He has about half an hour free before the board meeting. If you rush, you can g”—

“Thank you!” He cut her off hastily and gave her another forced smile before beginning a brisk walk towards the elevator. If the receptionist called his father and informed him that Kise would be coming, then his plan would be soiled before it even saw the light. He got into the elevator quickly, and pressed the highest number, pausing to breathe only when the doors closed and he began to ascend.

He understood that the occurrences of three years prior had been greatly detrimental to his father, considering his status as a politician, but what Kise hadn’t managed to understand then – or now – is how his father had managed to treat his own son with such discrepancy simply because of some setbacks in his career. Their disagreements had thereby been numerous and great, but Kise had hoped that his father would have cooled down by the time he returned to Japan from his world tour.

As things were, this would be the first time Kise would be seeing him in three years.

The elevator doors opened. He strode out quickly, smiling and nodding at the attendant by the desk before cutting straight towards his fathers’ office. He paused by the door for a fraction of the second, debating over knocking. A beat later, his hands were on the doorknob, twisting the door open.

This was it.

Mr. Kise was a lot like his son in many aspects; they both shared the same vividly flaxen hair color and at first glance many might assume they were brothers rather than parent and son, for that was how similar they were in appearance. However, closer inspection would indicate that his father’s eyes were rather unlike his, for Kise’s were softer and lighter while his father’s eyes were darker and rather unreadable.

However, when Kise had stepped into his father’s office that afternoon, the blonde found it appallingly easy to understand from the contempt in his father’s eyes that this situation was not going to go the way he wanted.

“Ryouta.” He said coolly. “Who let you in?”

“Dad, please,” he said in panicked voice, cutting straight to the chase and ignoring the pain inflicted on his consciousness by the sharp edge of his father’s voice, “I know we’ve had our differences, but I’ve never asked you for anything before and I really, _really_ need your help.”

His father regarded him with dislike. “And why did you assume I would agree?”

Kise stared at him in disbelief, eyes prickling curiously. “W-Well, you’re my father, and… I”—but he cut himself off, shaking his head to blink away the tears, “Listen, Dad, I was… it’s not for me.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. “Get to the point, Ryouta.”

“Dad, I… my friend, from high school,” He said quickly, “He’s, um, in a bit of a tight spot and I was wondering…”

 _Kami,_ why on earth did he even think this would work? This was a terrible idea.

“… I was wondering if you could… help him find a lawyer.”

His father’s eyes flashed angrily, and his face contorted in fury. “You _dare_ come to me,” he began darkly, and Kise recoiled immediately, “and ask me to do something like that? Haven’t you tarnished my reputation enough?”

Kise hadn’t expected his father to accept his hasty and vague offer, but he certainly hadn’t expected him to lash out with such rage. He blinked quickly and numerously, but it did nothing to quell the tears that rose to his eyes at once.

“Dad, I”—

“Do you think I’m _stupid,_ Ryouta?” He spat viciously, rising from his chair. “I know _exactly_ why you’re here. You’re _involved_ with that Aomine boy who got arrested just this morning for _murdering_ who you had claimed to be one of your closest friends, and you want _me_ to help him find a _lawyer_!?”

His blood went cold so quickly that he thought his tears might have frozen to ice right there on his face. How did his father know about that? His _mother_ didn’t know about that. _“_ H-How… h-how did you”—

“Your friend Akashi was kind enough to inform me of your misdemeanor! If it hadn’t been for him, who knows what you’d be getting yourself into?”

If it was physically possible to die out of fright, he assumed he would have dropped dead right then and there.

“You’re _disgusting,_ Ryouta!” He bellowed. “I don’t even want to _look_ at you – let alone acknowledge you as my _son._ ”

Both father and son stood still in the momentary ceasefire, staring at each other in equal parts contempt and disbelief. For a long time, neither said anything, they just considered the other and thought about how badly things must have gone wrong for them to end up in that spot, in that situation; Kise in shock, and his father in anger.

“Get out, Ryouta.” His father whispered finally, sinking back down onto his chair. “Don’t show your face at my doorstep ever again.”

He stared at him in disbelief, unable to comprehend the words. “Dad,” Kise choked out at last amidst his tears; they flowed too fast and too heavily for him to control, “ _please.”_

“GET OUT!”

Pressing his lips together tightly and clenching his fists, Kise turned on his heel and exited the office, wishing he had never been born as the son of a tyrannous monster like the man sitting behind him.

* * *

Aomine plead guilty; no bargain – just as Kise had expected him to.

Truthfully, he didn’t know what to feel nor hope for anymore. Who was good, and who was bad? Evidently, Akashi had no doubts about Aomine being the murderer, and the rest of the world seemed to agree.

So did this mean that Aomine really was the bad guy, here?

Or was Kise really as insane as the rest of the world seemed to think he was?

Aomine’s trial was set for the first of September. None of this mattered to Kise. He found himself tumbling through August in a daze. In years to come, he would remember very little of this dark period of his life, for he truthfully did not do much other than eat, sleep and drink. His mother or one of his sisters brought him at least one meal every day, and tried to make him eat it as much as possible, but their efforts did not bear fruit. Like a zombie, Kise lived out the rest of these days, waiting for the inevitable verdict that would no doubt come for Aomine on the day of his trial.

Such was the case that when the sun dawned on the first of September, Kise had lost quite a bit of weight, and looked more disheveled than he probably had been for the entirety of his life. His cheeks were sunken and hollow, and the sunshine in his amber eyes had long since gone. Frail, shivering and lethargic, Kise Ryouta was no longer even a shadow of who he used to be.

He vaguely debated over staying at home – the news would reach him one way or the other – but then decided against it. He rose from the tumble of dirty linen on his bed that had more or less become his permanent residence and strode over to his untouched closet in search of something formal to wear.

* * *

“Are we going?”

Takao lay on his chest, the ends of his dark hair tickling Midorima’s skin. The pair had just woken up, and Midorima was understandably disoriented, especially considering that he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but he heard Takao’s soft voice just fine.

His arm that lay wrapped around Takao’s torso tightened protectively. Then, he spoke in a hoarse morning voice.

“Would you prefer to, nanodayo?”

Here, Takao laughed slightly. “What do you _think_ , Shin-chan?”

He allowed himself a small smile in return, primarily because the other wasn’t looking. “I am aware, nanodayo. You were the one who asked.”

Takao snuggled further into his form; he loosened his limbs to allow the other more comfort. “Alright, alright, Shin-chan,” he murmured with the rattle of sleep re-entering his voice, “I was just”—here, a yawn –“Mm, making sure.”

Midorima allowed his miniscule smile to widen, but didn’t reply.

* * *

“Nn… You look awful, Kise-chin…”

Murasakibara was the first one to register nor recognize Kise’s presence outside the courtroom. He was accompanied by a kindly-looking, beautiful dark-haired boy – a familiar face, Himuro Tatsuya. His eyes widened in surprise at Kise’s state of disrepair, but did not make any comment aside from a gentle nod in greeting.

Nonetheless, he knew Murasakibara’s blunt statement must have been true. His hair was a mess, he did not wear an ounce of make-up, and his wrinkled suit was several times looser than had been when he initially wore it.

“Murasakibaracchi.” Kise noted in surprise, and even _he_ was appalled to hear how hoarse his voice was from neglect. Murasakibara cocked a lazy eyebrow.

“Nn… you sound _worse._ ”

Kise did not reply, and his former colleague did not make any further comment. Perhaps the tiredness in his eyes and the hopelessness spelled across his face were too intense even for the clueless giant to ignore, and maybe this was why he was left alone. Nevertheless, the pair followed Kise into the courtroom and sat directly next to him, perhaps worried (on Himuro’s part, anyway) that he might not be fine by himself.

They were probably right, too.

Several people filed into the courtroom, all of varying degrees of familiarity. Some were present, simply as curious observers, but a large majority were his peers from high school. He probably could have put names to all of them if he had made an effort, but at present his concentration was limited solely onto the door upon which Aomine would make his entry.

Akashi entered first, and a hush fell over the spectators as he moved past them gracefully, emanating power and sleekness from his perfectly arranged red hair right down to every click of his polished boots as they pressed against the velvet flooring. He sat down on the prosecutor’s bench, followed by Momoi and a couple of other young attorneys he did not know.

Almost a moment later, an unfamiliar defense attorney swept open the door Kise had his eyes locked on, and held it open to allow Aomine to pass through. Aomine looked just as bad as Kise, and despite the situation, Kise couldn’t help but clench his fists in hope that Aomine might look his way perhaps even once.

As it was, he did not get the chance, and Aomine kept his gaze lowered, either way. Judging by the whispers that filled the courtroom, not one person doubted that the suspect in question was the convict.

“All rise.” The bailiff’s voice rang in his ears, and quite suddenly Kise found himself stumbling to his feet along with the crowd as the judge – a robust, middle-aged man with peppered hair and a contemplative face – made his way into the courtroom and took his seat. The bailiff continued his introduction, but all Kise could do was look at the muscles pressing against the fabric on Aomine’s back, remember how he caressed every one of the fibers on that skin and feel an overwhelming urge to cry. He blinked away his tears and took his seat, Murasakibara grumbling audibly next to him.

The court proceedings went on, and Kise allowed his attention to wander along the lines of Aomine’s neck, up his spiky blue hair and back down again. Then, quite suddenly, Aomine tilted his head back lazily almost as if he had felt that somebody had called him, and Kise froze like a deer caught in headlights. The tanned man’s eyes finally caught the disheveled blonde, and his eyes widened – but whether it was in surprise at his presence or appearance was something Kise could not discern. The pair stared at each other, eyes locked in a powerful, unspoken battle, but neither could manage to overcome nor understand the other.

Finally, looking possibly more miserable than he had had initially, Aomine turned his head back towards the front of the courtroom, just as Akashi was asked to call his first witness by the judge.

“Thank you, your Honor,” Akashi said smoothly, both polite and appropriately assertive, “I call to the stand Daisuke Shizue, PhD holder in criminal psychology at the University of Tokyo.”

More whispering flooded the courtroom as the witness, sleek and professional in her smartly tailored suit, made her way to the stand in order to be sworn in. Kise was confused as to what her role might be in Akashi’s plan, and a glance at Murasakibara told him that the other was just as confused. He decided to spectate:

“Shizue-san,” Akashi inferred smoothly of the bespectacled middle-aged brunette, who seemed surprisingly calm upon being addressed by the imposing redhead, “You specified earlier to the prosecution that you have worked in this field for almost twenty years, now. Is this correct?”

Her answering nod was firm. “Yes. That is true.”

Akashi nodded, satisfied, and then smoothly picked up a file from the desk before walking over to the judge and handing it over to him. “Your honor, please witness to the credit card transactions made by Aomine Daiki at the TOHOSHINKI bar over the past three years.”

The judge leafed through the sheaf of papers, and then nodded. “I must ask, though, Akashi-san, what is the relevance?”

“It will become apparent shortly, your Honor.” He said calmly, and then turned to the witness: “Shizue-san, please describe the physical outlets sought by most guilt-wrought parties. I presume your descriptions would be in line with the relevant evidence supplied in the inventory file.” This he said whilst handing over a sheaf of notes to the judge, who brushed through them, confusedly at first but his expression steadily clearing.

“Of course,” the woman nodded formally, “the biggest change noted by persons who recently undergo a guilt-inducing event is their inclination to get involved in substance abuse. According to a nationwide research lead by myself in 2009, a common trait shared by murderers is their addiction to alcohol”—

“A trait,” Akashi interrupted systematically, a small, satisfied smile stretching across his face, “that is rather evident in our defendant in question. Your witness.” This last part he said to the public defense attorney while the judge nodded in acceptance, and Kise felt disbelief coursing through him.

“Aominecchi isn’t a drunk.” He whispered hoarsely, and Murasakibara regarded him distastefully.

“Really, Kise-chin…?” He droned. “Nn… You haven’t been around for the past three years, you know? Mine-chin spent the year after Kuro-chin died almost entirely drunk… He’s better now, I guess, but still…”

 _Really?_ He thought to himself in shock, and immediately felt guilty. There were so many things about Aomine that he did not know.

Then again, perhaps it was all for the best.

The hopeless public defender tried his best to compete with Akashi’s solid evidence, but he simply could not find enough ground to support his case. Fumbling and bumbling, he did not seem even half as prepared as the flawless prosecutor.

“S-So what you’re trying to say,” He stammered presently, “is that Aomine Daiki is a murderer just because he likes a drink on Fridays?”

“Objection, your Honor, the question misstates the evidence.” Akashi interrupted for what seemed to be the fifth time. “The witness did not once accuse the defendant, she was simply stating scientifically approved facts.”

“Sustained.”

The defender fumbled about with his words for a few more tries, only to be shut down by Akashi every time until eventually he returned to his seat, and the prosecution was asked to come forth once more.

“Thank you, your Honor,” Akashi said politely, “the prosecution would now like to call to the stand Koganei Shinji, bartender and three-year-long employee at the TOHOSHINKI bar.”

Even Aomine looked surprised by this, Kise noted, because his eyes followed Koganei as he was sworn in and then asked to take a seat at the stand. The feline brunette in question seemed rather queasy, and looked as if nausea might strike him at any given moment.

“Koganei-san,” Akashi asked smoothly, and Koganei flinched upon being addressed by the redhead, “in case the defense may have any further misstatements to make, will you please comment on the evidence provided by the prosecution on the subject of Aomine’s regular bar attendance?”

“I-It’s true, your Honor,” he nodded breathlessly, his stage fright evident, “A-Aomine-san has been at the bar every night ever since I started working there.”

“Was the defendant ever accompanied by anyone?”

“Um, yes, four men roughly his age. S-Should I identify them?” He stammered, terrified that he might be asked to do such a thing.

“That would not be necessary.” Akashi rose from his seat along with Momoi, who nodded to the two young male attorneys; they rose from their seats as well and disappeared into a side-room only to reappear with a portable USB screen and a couple of speakers. “Your Honor, the prosecution will now present direct evidence that Aomine Daiki was involved, if not behind, the murder of Kuroko Tetsuya.”

At this point, Kise and the rest of the crowd present at the courtroom heard a low “ _Shit”_ flit across the benches from the very back. Imayoshi and three others who used to be at Touou sat at the very last row, staring at the stand in disbelief while five or so police officers subtly took their positions behind them. Aomine stared back at them, his features so exasperated that Kise at once knew that he must have instructed them to not come to the courtroom at any cost. However, courteous as this may have been of him, his reaction only supported the fact that he had been involved in something dodgy.

_Direct evidence._

Kise felt as if he could definitely sympathize with Koganei; he was feeling rather nauseous himself.

“If the court will please observe.” Akashi spoke, and the screen flickered to life; the contents on display appeared to be a scene from a security camera at the TOHOSHINKI bar where Aomine, Imayoshi, Wakamatsu, and two others from Touou sat together at a table. Sakurai was noticeably absent, and this only made Kise feel worse, as it proved the brunette’s innocence – and Sakurai had been the first to allege Aomine of his crime.

 _“Yeah,_ boss,” Imayoshi’s voice decidedly droned over the hubbub of the bar, “ _what do we do if they come after us?”_

Someone groaned – presumably the defense attorney. Kise didn’t have a moment to spare a glance; his eyes were glued to the screen in shock.

 _“You’re a pussy, Imayoshi,”_ came Aomine’s deep drawl – and even Kise could tell that he was drunk. _“Let them come. Who the fuck cares?”_

 _“Fuck off, Aomine,”_ Wakamatsu’s annoyed voice cut in, “ _We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your bloody ass fucking_ murdering _someone!”_

 _“Who gives a_ fuck, _Wakamatsu?”_ Aomine shot back angrily, and Kise felt his heart crumble into pieces, “ _It’s not like Tetsu’s gonna be able to judge me for what I did to him, anyway.”_

A stunned hush fell over the courtroom. Kise stared in jaw-dropped shock, anger and disbelief swirling through him simultaneously. Next to him, Murasakibara gave him a pitiful glance.

“Nn… I told you, Kise-chin.”

Kise didn’t hear him. It was as if his brain had stopped working.

A sudden yell disrupted the silence, and there was a bit of a scuffle at the back of the courtroom; Wakamatsu had leapt from his seat and tried to escape – the police apprehended him easily, and he stood in their custody in red-faced embarrassment. Meanwhile, Imayoshi looked distraught and furious and mortified all in one.

Akashi merely raised an eyebrow at this. He had no need to say anything, for Wakamatsu’s actions only strengthened his case. The defense attorney had no argument to present as a cross-examination, and Koganei left the stand and returned to his seat. Around this time, the occupants of the defense table had begun to whisper to one another furiously – with the exception of Aomine, who looked strangely lethargic.

“Your Honor,” Aomine’s attorney suddenly rose, and Akashi gave him a mildly intrigued look – in the manner one might regard a particularly persistent housefly, “the arguments presented by the prosecution are arguably solid, but the defense feels the need to ask that the prosecution has yet to prove a motive for the murder.”

The judge seemed to have just realized this, and raised an eyebrow at the prosecutor in question. “The court instructs the prosecution to oblige to the query asked by the defense.”

Here, Akashi smiled coolly and rose to his feet as well. “If the court will allow it, the prosecution would like to call one more witness to the stand.”

“Just answer the question, Akashi,” the defense attorney snapped back, and Akashi gave him a cold, hard look for being so disrespectful.

“I am in the process of doing so.” The defense attorney looked livid, but sustained his composure.

“If you have no more objections, may we continue?” Akashi said in a voice chilly enough to freeze fire before regaining his faux-polite composure. “The prosecution would like to present their final witness to the stand…

“Kise Ryouta, ex-classmate and acquaintance of the defendant.”

Pin-drop silence.

Kise, still stuck in his daze from before, realized that his name had been called. All the participants of the courtroom were craning their heads back to look at him. He felt very claustrophobic, not quite realizing what to do. Murasakibara nudged him and whispered audibly.

“Nn… Aka-chin’s calling you, Kise-chin…”

And then, Kise realized.

It was him.

He was the final piece in Akashi’s puzzle.

Throat closing, aware that he must look like a mess and _very_ conscious of Aomine’s eyes boring holes into him, Kise rose from his seat unsteadily and made his way to the stand in order to be sworn in. In years to come, he would never remember explicitly making his way there, but in the next moment, he found himself seated on the stand and looking out at the crowd of expectant faces.

“ _Kise-san_ ,” Akashi’s voice was as sleek and sharp as glass, and the underlying, mocking _Ryouta_ behind the polite suffix was not lost on him, “Arguably, you were one of the closest friends to the defendant and the victim. Will you please, truthfully, tell the court whether or not the pair ever had any disputes in the past?”

“Objection,” the defense cut in, “the question is leading.”

“Sustained.”

“Let me rephrase,” Akashi said in the same breath, “did Kuroko Tetsuya and Aomine Daiki have any disputes?”

“No, of course”—he made to protest, but then his words caught in his throat as he realized. Yes. Yes, they did have disputes in the past. They were in the middle of a dispute around the time of Kuroko’s murder.

The dispute was concerning _him._

Suddenly, his throat felt coated with sawdust, and he found it difficult to breathe.

“Yes, Kise-san?” Akashi pressed faux courteously, “go on.”

Kise’s eyes scanned the crowd desperately for a sign of comfort. It was another testament to Fate’s cruelty that his eyes managed to inevitably lock with Aomine’s. He hoped Aomine saw the hopelessness in his face, the panic in his eyes. He searched Aomine’s navy orbs for a sign of recognition, of assurance, of anything that could possibly help him fight the contradiction recurring in his brain.

_I love him. He loves me. I can’t do this to him._

But did he? Did he love Kise? Would he have hurt him this badly if he did? Kise searched Aomine’s unreadable expression for an answer valiantly… only to come to the terrible conclusion that he didn’t _know_ what was right or wrong, anymore.

And it was because of Aomine that he didn’t.

Kise closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Yes…” He said carefully before opening his eyes again, his voice shaky but definite. “Yes, they did have disputes.”

“Please describe them to me, Kise-san.”

Kise raised his eyes to the ornamental chandelier hanging from the ceiling; anything besides having to look at Aomine’s face as he spoke.

“Well, the last one, you know,” he spoke slowly, but his voice was clear and monotone – robotic, almost, “before Kurokocchi died… Aominecchi, Kurokocchi and I… were at a bit of a disagreement.”

“A disagreement?” Akashi prompted.

“Yes,” Kise continued in the same dazed voice, “Aominecchi has – _had_ – feelings for me.”

“And did you have feelings for him?”

“Feelings?” Kise exhaled shakily, and then continued. “I… I don’t know,” he said truthfully, “I didn’t know what to feel back then, you know? I was… confused.”

“Why were you confused, Kise-san?”

Kise took a deep breath, and then exhaled. “Because Kurokocchi had feelings for Aominecchi, too. And Aominecchi knew that I would never do anything that would hurt Kurokocchi… but he still chased after me no matter how much I denied it.”

“Why do you say that the defendant was aware of your standpoint?”

Kise bit his lip. “Because… Because I told him that I wouldn’t want anything to do with him like that as long as Kuroko as alive.”

Immediately, the courtroom filled with loud chattering and whispers. The defense attorney’s jaw dropped, and he looked to Aomine for an explanation, but Aomine didn’t seem to notice him, for he was staring directly at the witness on the stand with his eyes glazed with tears and expression hauntingly anguished. The judge called for order; Akashi wasn’t smiling, but his mien exalted delight. His eyes were beaming, as they always did after a victory.

“To the defense,” Akashi smiled a small smile triumphantly, “your motive has been presented. The prosecution rests.”

The defense attorney had no chance, and he knew it. Kise still sat on the stand, stuck in a daze and staring at the chandelier. He sat this way until the attorney forfeited the cross-examination once more, and someone – presumably Murasakibara – came to escort him out of the courtroom while the judge debated over a verdict.

* * *

Aomine was tried as guilty, and charged with one count of first-degree murder – he was sentenced to life in prison. Soon after, Kise understandably found himself inside his usual bar, downing shot after shot of scotch, wanting to get the entire terrible day out of his head. The sun sunk into the clouds dotting the horizon and disappeared under the skyscrapers, bathing the city in a beautiful orange light. Kise was still drinking by the time Tokyo city lit up in its array of colorful nightlife lights, bathing the darkened sky in an unmistakable glow.

This was his first time getting drunk after the events that occurred at Kuroko’s birthday party, and he drank very well. Such was the case that, by the time Kise stumbled out into the streets, still holding a bottle in his hand, he was understandably very tipsy and perhaps on the verge of alcohol poisoning.

He did not know where he was going, but he simply let his legs lead him forward. Laughing drunkenly and tumbling through the streets, he realized he must look like a madman, but he could not possibly find the energy to care.

The world was primarily a blurry splotch of shapes and colors, but at one point, Kise’s senses came to be, and he realized that he was lying down on a spread of grass. Curious even to his drunken mind, he sat up, wondering how on earth he came to meet with _grass_ in Tokyo.

Kise laughed, as this notion somehow seemed hysterical to his drunken mind. _Grass_ in Tokyo. The very idea!

As he straightened up to a sitting position with much difficulty, he came face to face with an elaborately ornamented white block.

A grave.

Kise laughed happily. “Kurokocchi!” He shrieked, somehow managing to recognizing the characters marking the stone but not understanding the severity of it, and then fell back onto the grass again, laughing hysterically once more.

“Eh?” He blinked, his voice slurring, “Waaait, aren’t ya deeead, Kurokoccchiiiii?” He pondered this for a moment or so, and then laughed again. “Ya a _aaare_ dead! Aaaahm just insaaane! But whooo caaares? Ah-haaaven’t been thiiis happy siiince ya diiied, Kurooookkkoooccchiiiiii! Why’d-a stoooop driinkiing, anywaaaaaay?”

He blinked, and then laughed louder upon formulating an answer in his drunken brain.

“Yeeeeeeeeah, thas righhhh, I forgot! Istoppedbecauseyadieeeeeed!”

He smiled at that, for whatever reason, and closed his eyes in contentment. “Tha-night was eh-chually reeaal reeeal fun, wasn’t it? Youu and I talked foor a looong time… Aominecchiii and I got laaaid…”

He laughed again because of the absurdity of the thought. “Hahaaaa, and then Aominecchiii kiiiilled youuu! Hahaaaa, thas…”

Here, he came to a sinking realization that the entire situation was not funny at all, but actually really, really depressing. His mood did an entire three-sixty; and suddenly he was bawling ungracefully, sniffling and wiping his tears on the back of his now-ruined suit sleeve.

He wished he could rewind the clock to three years ago, when things had been okay with all of them. To three years ago, when his life was just about perfect. To three years ago, when Kuroko was still alive.

Kise closed his eyes amidst his uncontrollable sobs, and for the first time in three whole years, finally allowed himself to think about the happenings of January 31st – Kuroko Tetsuya’s 18th birthday.

* * *

“I am about to get _very_ drunk.” Kise announced cheerfully to his friend, who regarded this declaration somewhat apprehensively, as the blonde was already somewhat intoxicated. Kuroko Tetsuya held a virgin glass of punch to his lips, despite his friends’ insistences that he get drunk, his eyes contemplative as he considered the blonde.

“Kise-kun, you are already very drunk. Please make sure that you will be alright before you go any further.”

Kise rolled his eyes. “Kurokocchi, _relax._ I’ll be fine! Besides, what could happen?” He gestured to the large number of people present at the party – all of them in varying states of intoxication. “ _Everyone_ is here. In fact,” he teased Kuroko by pretending to pour some of his drink into Kuroko’s, “I think you should drink a bit, too. It’s your birthday!”

Kuroko dodged Kise’s action smoothly and continued regarding him expressionlessly, still regarding Kise with the same contemplative blue eyes. “It is unhealthy, Kise-kun.”

Kise shrugged. “Suit yourself, Kurokocchi.” Having – albeit momentarily – lost interest, he scanned the crowd eagerly for an object of interest. He frowned when his eyes came into contact with Aomine’s, because the latter looked away hastily no sooner than they did so.

“Say, Kurokocchi,” he leaned in, taking a generous gulp from his cup, “do you think Aominecchi will ever talk to me again?”

Kuroko sighed. “Kise-kun, Aomine-kun _does_ want to talk to you. _You’re_ the one avoiding him.”

Kise downed the cup, immediately reaching for another one. His frowned deepened as he took another generous gulp and felt his head spin. “Hmm… you might be right, Kurokocchi. But,” he said chirpily, downing the second cup and watching Kuroko’s eyes widen slightly in alarm, “I – uhh… what’s the word – yeeah, I don’t really… care.”

Kuroko stared at him, his eyes now a bit anxious. “You should slow down, Kise-kun.”

His third cup now. “Y… Y-You mighh be righh, Kurokocchi…”

Kuroko studied him in mild surprise. “Kise-kun, you are really quite bad at tolerating alcohol.”

He was about to take another gulp when Kuroko gently grabbed the cup and placed it down on the table, away from his reach. He whined in protest at being denied his precious alcohol, but Kuroko grabbed his hands and met his eyes evenly and seriously.

“This is getting a bit out of hand. Kise-kun, I need to talk to you…”

* * *

_“Kise-kun, I need to talk to you…”_

Wait.

Kise sat up on the grass, head beginning to ache from his liquor rush – the world still seemed to teeter precariously from side to side. He replayed the last part in his brain again. What happened next?

And then, he remembered, all at once.

… Oh, god.

_“I need to talk to you, Kise-kun… can we meet on the roof?”_

Oh, _god._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp. I guess you guys can sort of guess what actually happened, now... OR CAN YOU? Stay tuned; the last chapter's gonna come up soon, and finally, everything will be cleared out.
> 
> PLEASE REVIEW


	8. Freud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The final chapter. I'm very happy because it's literally the first time I've managed to finish a multi-fic story! >w

**Freud**

* * *

 

in the sunflower field there was a competition of who arrived first

without sleeping we can’t enter that golden blanket

* * *

 

“I need to talk to you, Kise-kun… can we meet on the roof?”

Kise’s intoxicated mind was not anywhere near in the mood for a heart-to-heart chat. He wanted to _dance_ , he wanted to hook up with someone, and he wanted to have _fun._ He pouted endearingly at the somber cerulean-haired teen and with a petulant “Mm… later~”, he instead swept into the thriving mass of bodies that occupied Kagami’s relatively tiny living room presently. He wound his way through the crowd energetically until he literally tripped over his own feet and into someone else’s arms.

That someone else turned out to be Aomine; the navy-haired boy looked down at him with a mixture of amusement and worry, and upon locking their eyes together, Kise’s first, drunken instinct was to rise back to his feet and kiss Aomine with all the strength in his body. Thankfully, perhaps, his limbs didn’t seem to move at the same rate as his mind, and a bemused Aomine managed to stop Kise before he did anything drastic.

“Mm… Aominecchii~” He slurred happily, not quite remembering their argument from earlier in the day, and threw his arms around the tanned boy promptly. Aomine laughed his bark-like laugh, perhaps accepting the fact that Kise would always be quite eccentric when it came to matters of the heart.

“What do you want now, Kise?” Aomine asked, a wolfish grin spreading across his features. “Oi, you’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Mm… I _so_ am~!” He squealed happily, looping both arms around Aomine’s neck and leaning forward with his lips puckered. Aomine laughed gruffly but turned his head sideways at the last minute so that Kise met his cheek instead of lips. “Youuu should be drunk tooo, y’know, Aominecchi?”

Aomine raised his own cup of “punch” and shook it pointedly before taking a large gulp himself. “I’m drinking too. You’re just a lightweight idio— Oi, no, give that back!”

Kise’s sharp eyes had caught the presence of alcohol and immediately snatched it from Aomine, mumbling something cheerfully about “happy juice”. He was just about to take a massive gulp when Aomine stole it back and downed the contents of the cup before Kise could do anything else.

He wiped his mouth and grinned more cheekily at Kise before responding. “You’ve had enough happy juice for the night, blondie.”

“Bloooondiiiee~?” Kise yelled in all his nasal incredulity. “Are y’calling mee a blooondiee?”

Aomine stared at him in dumbfounded amusement, disbelieving of the fact that _anyone_ could be this idiotic when drunk. “You shouldn’t drink, Kise.”

They stared at each other for a beat, at first Kise in petulant disbelief and Aomine in amused surprise. But then, Kise was very much aware of how close they were standing – their heated bodies just barely brushing, and quite suddenly the petulance in his expression changed into something deeper.

Aomine’s eyes noticed this change, and the shock in his eyes faded into a look of tentative… tentative what? Was that desire Kise saw in his eyes?

Perhaps it was due to the alcohol in their bodies, perhaps it was because they just had too much sexual tension left unsatisfied, but all of a sudden they were kissing each other. Kise’s lips melded against Aomine’s hungrily and hastily, almost as if afraid that the moment might leave them if he took even a second to breathe. His arms looped around Aomine’s neck and he dragged his nails across the back of the other’s neck, earning a slight groan of satisfaction from the other.

They pulled back for a fraction of a second, both of them panting heavily for breath. Aomine’s eyes were an intense blue, almost electric to his intoxicated mind. They held with them a question, a question Kise was certain that he answered well. But when he leaned in for a second time, Aomine stopped him gently, much to his dismay.

“Aoooominecchiiii~” He whined, nails digging into the back of Aomine’s neck in his attempt to cling to him, “Whyyyy?”

Here, Aomine greeted him with a smirk. “What? Do you want to continue doing this here, in front of everyone else?”

The promise in Aomine’s eyes left him feeling deliciously breathless. He relented, albeit momentarily, as Aomine’s eyes scanned the crowd and found a door. He began wading through the mass of bodies, and Kise followed, eagerly clinging to his hand like Aomine might disappear forever if he let go even for a second.

* * *

It was Kagami’s room they were in, but Kise found that he didn’t care at all – and by the looks of it, neither did Aomine. They toppled onto the bed, Kise atop Aomine, their shirts already off. In their drunken state of mind, Kise didn’t even waste a single moment admiring the planes of Aomine’s body, even if he might have done so otherwise. As it was, his thirst for Aomine’s lips, his skin, _him_ had reached as high as it would go, and he knew that he couldn’t hold back for a second longer.

He propped himself up on his elbow and leaned down, his lips finding purchase on Aomine’s neck, trailing hot kisses done the toned surface. He nipped the taut skin here and there, enticing delicious gasps from the other. His free hand trailed down the Aomine’s ripped torso, fingers tracing between the planes of his abdomen as he went.

Kise’s lips returned back to the surface of Aomine’s lips just as his hand reached Aomine’s jeans. A huff off annoyance escaped his lips as he struggled slightly with the buckle of Aomine’s belt, but the frown quickly evaporated when his fingers brushed against Aomine’s hardened member in his haste to unbutton his jeans.

He pulled away from Aomine’s lips, amber eyes burning, and shimmied his way down until he was face to face with his crotch. Aomine propped himself up onto his elbows, panting heavily but smirking wolfishly all the while.

Kise’s lips were on Aomine’s waist now, right above the band of his boxers; he kissed the skin there tenderly but hungrily as he pulled the underwear along with Aomine’s jeans down to Aomine’s knees – Aomine’s hardened member sprang free, and Kise did not waste a second before gripping it tightly with one hand and taking the tip of its head in his warm, moist mouth.

Aomine hissed between his teeth as Kise, unrelenting and unfazed, worked his tongue around the bulbous head of Aomine’s cock hungrily, arm pumping up and down, up and down, up and down until Aomine looked as if his head was spinning. He bobbed his head up and down Aomine’s length, because _god,_ he had waited so long for this, and now he couldn’t stop, no, not anymore.

To his dismay, that was exactly what he had to do, because Aomine sat up suddenly. “Ah, K-Kise, I’m gonna fucking come right now if you don’t stop.”

Well, Kise didn’t want that, not when he was just s _tarting._ Unable to resist a smirk, he released Aomine’s cock from his mouth with one last teasing flit with his tongue along the slit at the very tip. He was panting heavily, but he didn’t have a second to breathe before Aomine had him pinned onto the bed again underneath him, and oh _god –_ Aomine was biting and kissing his neck, slowly navigating his way down towards his stiff member. He was going slow, much too slow.

“A-Aominecchi, please,” he almost begged, “Faster, please~”

Aomine relented, perhaps because he too was nearing the end of his tether. He settled himself between Kise’s knees and quickly rid the blonde of his own pair of jeans and underwear, watching hungrily as Kise’s hardened member jumped free and landed on the toned plane of his abdomen.

He leaned down and pressed a teasing kiss on top of Kise’s member, but otherwise did not give Kise any closure. He began to whine immediately, but then his voice died in his throat when Aomine’s arms hooked around his legs and lifted them up until his butt was exposed. He took a deep breath of anticipation, and gasped in excitement when Aomine’s hands gently grabbed his bottom and spread it until his opening was exposed.

Beyond that point, Kise’s sanity began to deteriorate, for Aomine’s tongue worked _wonders_ on his sensitive skin. He licked and sucked the skin relentlessly, occasionally teasing the blonde by dipping the very tip of his tongue in between the folds, earning satisfied whimpers whenever he did so.

He carried on in this manner for quite a while, and then, feeling as if Kise must be reaching his limit, pulled away and instead wound his way back up Kise’s body to press their lips together. Kise relished this gesture, and kissed back hungrily; their members were pressing against one another, and Kise’s squirming hips was doing nothing to subside the burning desire steadily growing in Aomine’s abdomen.

He should have realized it was all too good to be true.

Aomine didn’t realize when exactly Kise had stopped responding to his ardent kissing, but he discovered something wasn’t right when he pulled back to breathe only to find that Kise was staring at him, eyes wide in horrified shock.

“K-Kise?” He gasped, out of breath. “Oi, is anything wrong?”

Kise, drunk as he was, seemed to realize that this wasn’t something that they should be doing. “A-Aominecchi, I…” he stammered in a horrified whisper, still stunned, “We can’t… Kurokocchi told me he needed to talk to me. I need to get to the roof. What am I doing?”

Kise freed himself from Aomine’s entangled body and climbed off the bed, gathering up his clothes as he went. He dressed quickly and hastily, not looking at Aomine, who meanwhile was beginning to feel as if his heart was sinking. He really did not understand how the crevices of Kise’s mind worked but maybe he was right, they were drunk and they were being irrational… this wasn’t right.

He watched in despair while Kise got dressed and left the room hastily. He got dressed himself, but couldn’t find enough energy to go out for he felt like his heart was almost hollow. He fell back onto the bed, and for a long, long time just lay there, wallowing in his misery and wondering how he would ever be able to move on from Kise if he was going to keep oscillating between yes and no _all_ the time.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he moved. It may have been an hour, it may have been two, and it also may have been no longer than fifteen minutes but when he _did_ move, he realized something that left him feeling a chill in his bones.

_“I need to get to the roof.”_

The roof of Kagami’s house didn’t have any railings.

Kise was drunk.

His eyes widened, and he didn’t waste a second longer before bolting out of the room.

* * *

 

farewell to st. golgotha's hill

i lied in the church

after all, everything will be exposed

so i cant enter here

 

* * *

 

Kise was already stumbling down the hill, overcome with panic.

_What happened next? Oh, god, I can’t remember what happened next…_

He needed to find him. He didn’t know whether it would work – whether he would even be let inside, but god, he _had_ to try.

He didn’t know what reminded him it was probably saner and more efficient to hail a cab than to run all the way there (his urgency, probably), but he truthfully didn’t know what else to do. It was relatively easy to get a taxi, as it was already quite late, but the driver stared at him suspiciously when he gave the address. Kise realized that the driver must be finding it rather dodgy that a drunk man wanted to get to such a prestigious address so late in the night. However, he clarified nothing, and waited impatiently in the car as it begun zooming through the outskirts of Tokyo towards a building he used to be very familiar with.

At length, he stepped out of the taxi unsteadily and looked up at the imposing mansion, complete with a mechanical gate and a guard who looked at him suspiciously. He tried his best to bow respectfully to this guard, but didn’t waste any more time in hastily ringing the doorbell.

He supposed that there must be a security camera fitted somewhere, because the gates swung open – much to his relief. He did not need someone to escort him inside, because he had been there several times by himself already, and remembered perfectly where he needed to go.

He just hoped Akashi had the answers he was looking for.

* * *

He turned out to be right, because Akashi had definitely been expecting Kise. He was inside the study, still clad in his suit from earlier in the day, when Kise found him facing his bookshelf with his back to the door and leaning against the table.

Kise fell to his knees, exhausted both mentally and physically.

“Please,” Kise begged quietly, “please, just tell me the truth about what happened.”

Akashi tilted his head sideways and regarded him coldly. “Realized, have you, _Ryouta_?”

Kise closed his eyes, feeling tears streak down his cheeks – the ache in his head almost matched the ache in his heart, now.

“Please.” He begged.

Akashi turned his head back to face the bookshelf. “You are right in assuming I know what happened, Ryouta. Daiki told me.”

Kise raised his head from the ground, eyes widening in shock. “What?”

“Yes, Ryouta.” Akashi turned around to face him, finally, and his expression was completely neutral. “Daiki told me everything the next day itself.”

* * *

“Kurokocchi, I’m so sorry, I”— Kise took a heaving breath as soon as he stepped out onto the rooftop and found the cerulean-haired boy standing near the edge, lost in his own muse, “I’m a terrible friend. I-I can’t…”

Kuroko looked surprised at this sudden, tear-wrought confession. He waited until the distraught blonde unsteadily – for he was still rather intoxicated – caught up to where he was standing before he begun to speak. “Kise-kun, what has happened? You seem a bit upset.”

Kise was full-blown crying now. “Kurokocchi, I keep betraying your trust and I don’t know why I keep doing it and I know I’m not supposed to but-but”—He was going hysterical and he knew it, but he didn’t know what to do to stop the confused storm of feelings swirling in his brain. “I just… I can’t do this, Kurokocchi.” He sniffled unhappily.

Kuroko studied him, intently contemplative. He seemed to understand what was happening. “Kise-kun, this is actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” he began softly, “I want you to know that you shouldn’t do this to yourself and Aomine-kun in order to preserve my feelings”—

Kise wouldn’t have any of it. “No!” He protested adamantly, horrified that Kuroko would even suggest such a thing. “Nooo, No way, Kurokocchi~! I would never ever, ever want to hurt any of my friends, much less _you,_ Kurokocchi~!”

Kuroko’s eyes were brooding and introspective, his voice gentle. “And yet you are hurting Aomine-kun, Kise-kun.”

Kise bit his lip. For that, he had no response, because Kuroko was right.

He turned away from Kuroko to hide the anguish on his face. “I… I don’t know what to feel, Kurokocchi…” He whispered desperately.

“Kise-kun, just do what makes you feel better.” Kuroko placed a gentle hand on Kise’s elbow, for he was too short to reach the blonde’s shoulder. “You are confused right now because you are very intoxicated.”

A billion things happened in the next split-second. Kise, emotion-wrought and intoxicated, didn’t quite manage to grasp the fact that they were on the edge of a roof, several floors above the ground. Kuroko realized this fact just a second too late, for what happened next happened in a matter of milliseconds, before he was able to do anything to rectify the situation.

“No~!” Kise wailed unhappily, flinging his arm in order to throw Kuroko’s hand off. This arm unfortunately managed to smack Kuroko himself as well, and the cerulean-haired boy’s eyes widened in shock when he felt himself topple backward at the sudden impact – it hadn’t been one he had been expecting, and thus he was unable to dodge it. His eyes widened further, this time in fear, upon realizing that he was no longer atop the roof anymore, but falling onto the ground below.

Back on the roof, another teenager had witnessed this horrendous moment as well, for a distraught and anxious Aomine had nearly flown his way up the stairs and onto the roof – just in time to see Kise accidentally push Kuroko off. His eyes widened and his heart and stomach leapt into his throat, but one thing kept him from screaming out Kuroko’s name at once.

Kise.

Kise stood by the edge of the rooftop, still wailing out an incoherent sentence, and Aomine realized with a jolt that he didn’t realize that anything had happened to Kuroko. In that split-second, Aomine made a decision that came to become the turning point of all of their lives.

He would do anything.

Anything.

Anything to protect Kise.

“Kise!” He yelled in faux annoyance, feeling his throat coat up with disgust even as he ran towards the blonde and gathered him in his arms. “There you are!”

“Whaaaat?” Kise asked in annoyance, trying to wriggle free from Aomine’s grasp. “Get away, Aominecchi! I’m talking to Kurokocchi!”

Aomine forced out a laugh. “Oi, you idiot! You’re standing there talking to yourself! Kuroko never even came _up_ here!”

Kise was confused now, and allowed Aomine to propel him away from the roof and steadily downstairs towards Kagami’s apartment. As they ran down the stairs, Kise had his eyebrows scrunched together. “Whaaaat?” He asked in disbelief. “Really? I’m _thaaat_ drunk?”

Aomine forced a laugh again. “Yes, you’re that drunk, idiot.” But it wasn’t enough. Tomorrow, when the police came, Kise would remember what happened and he would be able to piece everything together. He needed to do something more.

He felt Akashi’s eyes on them both as soon as he entered, and swore under his breath immediately. Of course, nothing would get by without him knowing (the captain must be curious as to why only two out of the three who went up to the roof returned), so he needed him on his side. Aomine shot his ex-captain a warning look to tell him that everything was not alright, and that Aomine would explain later. As of now, he propelled Kise towards the drink table and forced a cup of punch in his hands.

“Drink up, idiot.” He barked out a laugh. “Tomorrow, we die.”

Kise was appeased with the prospect of having more to drink, and drank up eagerly. Aomine joined him, laughing out loud even as his insides crumbled and his stomach shriveled up every time he thought of Kuroko dead on the sidewalk, rotting away until someone finally saw him there. He thanked his lucky stars that it was rather late, and that Kagami lived in the outskirts of Tokyo, for if anybody discovered Kuroko before his plan was put into action, then Kise was definitely doomed. Even if the situation was in his favor, it wouldn’t be long before someone discovered the body. He had to work fast.

Thankfully, Kise being so intolerant to alcohol worked in his favor, and the blonde was piss-drunk before long. Kise’s libido increased with every drink, and Aomine was quick to propel him into Kagami’s room as soon as the blonde so much as puckered his lips. He removed all of Kise’s clothes, and whispered as many lies as he could into his ear, wanting to throw up every time he kissed Kise’s skin, the sensation of wanting to cry heightening along with their deepening intimacy.

 _“I can’t believe it took two hours of coaxing for you to finally realize, dolt.”_ He lied over and over again, hoping the words would imprint itself onto Kise’s brain. _“I_ want _you, so badly. And I know you want me too, Kise.”_

Sin upon sin upon layer of sin, Aomine realized, this was what he was committing his life to. But there was no going back – there was nothing he could do. If he faltered, even for a second, then Kise was going to be the one getting hurt.

He had to protect Kise.

He _had_ to.

* * *

 

“Daiki told me everything that happened after we all left the parking lot. He begged me to do what he wanted me to do. I complied, because Daiki was an idiot, and he wouldn’t realize until it was too late that the one who deserved to get punished would end up hurt, in one way or the other.”

 

* * *

“Please,” Aomine begged, his dark voice hoarse and his tears staining the pavement as he knelt before Akashi’s feet like a slave before his god, “please, Akashi.”

Akashi stared at him expressionlessly, but his eyes were full of contempt. For a long time, he stayed silent, considering his chances. After what seemed like a millennium to poor Aomine, Akashi finally spoke.

“Alright. If you wish to doom yourself to that, then I can get you in jail without much problem, _Daiki._ But,” his eyes flashed coldly, “bear in mind that my forgiveness will never be with you nor Ryouta for as long as you live.”

* * *

“What Daiki didn’t realize,” Akashi spoke quietly, now, “was that you were hopelessly in love with him, Ryouta. His plan backfired on you beautifully, just as I had wanted it to. Because from this entire spectacle, the one who ended up the most hurt is not Daiki, Ryouta. It is _you._ ”

Kise was, at this point, beyond coherence and sanity. He sat in front of Akashi in jaw-dropped horror, not even breathing. He felt like he would possibly shatter into a million pieces if he so much as moved.

_I did it._

_I killed Kurokocchi._

“Look at you, Ryouta.” Akashi said in contempt. “No career, no happiness… on top of that, your family thinks you are insane. You will never be able to live out your days in peace, knowing that you are a murderer and your lover is in jail because of you. _You_ did this, Ryouta, and you deserve every piece of the torment it brings you.”

Kise’s hands were shaking. He raised them so that he could stare at them, and thought: _I did this. I did this. I killed Kurokocchi. I hurt Aominecchi. I hurt everyone. I did this. I did this._

_I did this._

_I’m a murderer._

Kise wanted to speak, but he couldn’t find his voice. His entire body trembled like the ground before an earthquake, but he couldn’t find the energy to cry. He felt disgusted, horrified, angry, hurt, but mostly, mostly, he felt anguish. He brought his knees up to his chest and curled up into a ball on the cold floor of Akashi’s study, unable to think or speak.

At length, Akashi left the room, leaving him shuddering on the floor by himself.

“I… I killed Kuroko…” he whispered to himself, shivering and shuddering, “I’m a murderer…”

…

“I’m a murderer…”

* * *

Kise didn’t realize exactly when he must have gotten up from the floor and left the mansion. He didn’t quite remember finding another taxi and asking to be taken to another destination. He remembered nothing of this, but when he came to be, he was standing at the precipice of Kagami’s roof again – three years after he had last set foot there – staring down at the road far, far below him, wondering how Kuroko must have felt when he realized that Kise had pushed him off.

He stayed silent for a long time, staring over the edge.

It would be easy to jump.

Death would be quick and painless.

He took a deep breath, and raised one foot, hovering it over the abyss below. This was it. Once he pushed his weight forward, there would be no coming back. He would die, and that was the end of that.

No more suffering.

No more pain.

Kise took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

Then, he retracted his foot. As appealing as it may be, he could not die just yet. No, because there was still something that had to be done.

He had to free Aomine.

Aomine had stayed by him when the rest of the world turned against him. Aomine had borne the weight of his sins, and was every day suffering under the pain of it, all under the valiant hope that he, Kise would be able to live a happy life.

Kise had to save him, no matter what.

* * *

 

**SIX YEARS LATER**

The police officer chuckled when he saw Aomine. “Back already, are you?”

Aomine scowled at him. “Shut up. I’m here to visit someone.” When the police officer raised an eyebrow in askance, he elaborated a bit hastily. “Kise Ryouta.”

The police officer gave a jerk of his head and made a gesture to a nearby junior officer to escort Aomine to the visitor’s room. The junior officer nodded and complied, so Aomine followed him, his heart thudding. This would be the first time he would see Kise in six whole years.

The junior officer took him to a room separated by a glass wall and equipped with several chairs and phone booths. He asked Aomine to take a seat at one of the booths, and Aomine complied, his legs jittering with excitement. To his left and right, other prisoners were speaking with their visitors, but Aomine could care less. He could hardly wait.

At length, Kise appeared from a far door, a bit confused and scanning the room for a reason why he might be here. He had finally grown a bit of blonde stubble, but his features were as beautiful as ever. Actually, Aomine had to admit that he actually looked far healthier than he had when he had first gotten into prison.

Finally, Kise’s eyes locked with Aomine’s, and he gave a little jolt of surprise (similar to the electric shock Aomine felt in his heart). Wordlessly, his mouth ajar, Kise came toward him and sat down on the booth opposite, not wasting a second before taking the receiver.

“Aominecchi.” He breathed, and Aomine had to marvel at how beautiful his voice still was. It was amazing that, even after all that time, Kise’s voice as magical as it used to be when they were so young. Kise’s eyes were glazed with tears, and Aomine felt his own eyes prickle curiously as well. “I haven’t seen you in so long. You got out, then?”

Aomine’s voice was hoarse. “My sentence got cut thanks to you. I can’t believe you were so stupid, Kise. Getting yourself into trouble even after I saved your sorry butt.” But he was smiling when he said this, and Kise’s expression was similar.

“I’m glad. I’m so glad I did that, Aominecchi.”

“Yeah,” Aomine admitted, his voice quivering, and his eyes shining with happy tears “me too.”

They were silent for a long time, just drinking each other in. After so long, they were able to look at each other and feel nothing but happiness.

“I heard you were in solitary.” Aomine asked quietly. “Why?”

Kise shrugged, though the light in his eyes fell slightly. “I asked for solitary. To repent, I guess… I mean, I could have bailed myself out, for that matter, but… I guess this is just so that I find peace.”

“Peace, huh?” Aomine said quietly, staring into the lines of Kise’s face and wondering how he would never be able to find peace so long as he wasn’t with Kise. “… Just… four more years for you, right?”

“Yeah,” Kise whispered, his face trembling with happy tears at the thought, “and then we can be together, Aominecchi.”

“Together,” Aomine agreed, his own cheeks stained with the crystalline liquid. “Just you and me, idiot.”

Kise sighed happily. “I love you, Aominecchi.”

Finally, Aomine marveled at the fact that they were able to say this to one another unrestrainedly, without any worry and without any fear – without any sadness or anguish. Just Aomine and Kise, together to the end of the world.

“I love you, too, Kise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Kise was supposed to kill himself. BUT a lot of you asked me for a happy ending, and I decided that I've caused way too much misery to just let everyone suffer. If you guys are really into that sort of pain, though, I may or may not write an alternative ending in Aomine's POV where Kise dies... I mean, if you.. really like angst THAT much. Also, I realized it wasn't so clear in the story that Akashi had some amount of feelings for Kuroko, and thus is why he acted so rashly... anyway, you can think like that IF that is your ship - if not, then never mind, I never spoke in the first place lol
> 
> Thank you so much for helping me come this far! You guys are the best! 
> 
> Cheers! 
> 
> Love,   
> Aika

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. Please, please, review. Reviews are for me what candy is to Murasakibara, and what porn is to Aomine. Save a life. Comment and Kudos!
> 
> Edit: have you ever read something you wrote in the past and wanted to die??? I want to BLEACH my brain. in my defense, I was 16.


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